


The Darach's Apprentice

by Shadowblade217



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU for Season 3A, F/F, F/M, M/M, Matt is a Darach
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 56,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27405532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowblade217/pseuds/Shadowblade217
Summary: After being murdered by Gerard Argent, Matt Daehler is resurrected by Jennifer Blake, who transforms him into a second Darach and recruits him to help her in her plan for revenge against the Alpha Pack. But as Matt aids Jennifer in her efforts, his new transformation and his second lease on life lead him to question everything...
Relationships: Ethan/Danny Mahealani, Jennifer Blake/Derek Hale, Matt Daehler & Jennifer Blake, Matt Daehler/Original Female Character(s), Past Jennifer Blake/Kali
Kudos: 1





	1. Resurrection

_**Matthew Daehler** _

Cold.

Coldness is the first sensation I feel. A coldness that penetrates so deep it feels like my bones are made of ice, that my blood is frozen solid in my veins, that my heart has frozen into a solid block of ice.

There is nothing, nothing in the universe, except the cold.

But then, slowly, other sensations begin to come to me, filling my mind as I achieve some form of consciousness, and I can "perceive" them, one by one.

_First, darkness._

It's darker than I've ever seen, darker than anything I could possibly have imagined, the darkness somehow making it even colder. I couldn't have seen a white sheet of paper if it was held against my face; there's no light whatsoever, not even a trace of anything that could allow vision.

_Second, silence._

Either my ears don't work here (wherever "here" is), or I'm the only person here, because I'm currently in the midst of the most profound silence I've ever heard. There is nothing; not the slightest sound. Not even the sound of my heartbeat, of my breathing, of blood running through my veins, of my muscles flexing and stirring.

Because none of those things are happening.

_Third, stillness._

I'm not moving; not a muscle, not a nerve impulse, not even a cell, is in motion. I am completely, utterly immobile. I imagine this is what it would feel like to be a statue.

I'm dimly aware that my endless silence and immobility are becoming a prison, one that I should be desperate to escape from, but I can't even feel fear; I am eternally apathetic, blind, deaf and numb to my surroundings, unable to accomplish anything.

_Fourth… light?_

Then I see it; a pinpoint of light, impossibly far away. As I watch, the light moves closer swiftly, increasing in brightness and radiance as it races towards me.

I'm level with it now, a vast wall of searing white light, rushing off to the horizon in all directions. I gaze upon it, unknowing, uncaring.

But I become curious, intrigued; I've retained the tiniest trace of identity, just enough to prompt my curiosity.

I reach out, and touch the light.

There is an explosion of pure white light, the brightest light I could possibly imagine.

_Fifth… memory._

And then it hits me with the force of a tidal wave.

Memories. _My_ memories.

A lifetime's worth; every memory I'd ever experienced in my entire life, compacted into an instant, all forced into my mind at once and replayed, from beginning to end.

I'm only able to catch momentary images, brief snatches of light and sound. But all those images are enough to tell the story.

My story.

_Childhood. Simple years, growing quickly._

_Then, the first darkness. Going to that party to meet a friend... being grabbed by an older boy, feeling the sick rush of terror._

_The fall, the stinging splash, thrashing desperately to stay on the surface, but sinking, inexorably dragged down._

_My first death._

_Then, after an instant of darkness, light again. The old man, Lahey, over me, yelling at me to stay quiet about this, to tell no one._

_Shifting again, growing old through the years, but always carrying that shadow over my soul, that memory of death, of darkness._

_Then, the most important memories since that black day._

_The Argents' funeral. Seeing Allison, smiling to myself. Seeing Lahey, feeling the hatred surging through me._

_Finding out, the next day, that he was dead._

_The night of the full moon, giving Jackson the video camera, seeing his body change and contort over the video feed, transforming into something monstrous._

_The Kanima's clawed hand, resting against the outside of the car window._

_My own hand, pressed against it through the glass._

_The bond, filling my mind, a surge of power, of electricity between our minds. The link between a Kanima and its master._

_Pictures. Taking pictures of each of my targets, each of the murderers who had killed me once. And then Jackson killing them, tearing them apart in my name, for my vengeance._

_Snuffing the life out of the one victim that Jackson hadn't been able to kill for me, suffocating her in the hospital._

_More deaths. More carnage, all for my sake. For my revenge._

_Suddenly, a flash of horror, as I realize that scales are growing on my left side, replacing the normal skin._

_The need, the desperation to find answers, to prevent this change from getting worse. To save myself._

_Finally, that final night._

_The party, feeling the horror as those kids tossed me into the pool, yelling that I can't swim, desperately thrashing in the water until Jackson grabs my arm and pulls me to safety._

_The police station._

_Taking McCall, Stilinski, Derek Hale, the sheriff, and McCall's mom hostage as I wait for the bestiary, the only way to find out what's happening to me._

_The station coming apart in a furious barrage of gunfire and tear gas._

_Running, fleeing the scene while Jackson holds off my pursuers._

_Then those final moments. Running across the bridge, and straight into that old man, Gerard Argent. His fist connecting with my face, knocking me to the ground._

_His hands, gripping my throat as he plunges me underwater, into the lake._

_Screaming in my mind, for Jackson, for_ anyone _, to help me._

_Knowing, in my heart, that no one will answer._

_Gerard's face, glaring coldly down at me through the water, his face morphing back and forth from his own face to images of Lahey's face from my first death all those years ago._

_Unable to hold out any longer, letting the water fill my lungs._

_A moment of searing agony, worse than anything I could have ever imagined._

_Then, blackness._

_And then…_

I open my eyes.

Immediately, I suck in a deep breath of air, the deepest breath I've ever taken in my life, and then break down coughing. I roll over and retch, emptying my lungs of the water that pours out of my mouth. Slowly, gasping for air, I manage to sit up, but I feel extremely weak; I can barely support my weight.

I'm in a dark room, lying on a metal table under a spotlight. I glance slowly around the room, my breathing slowing as I regain control over my body.

I see a brief movement from the shadows and turn to face the source, trying to push myself upright and nearly falling over as my arm gives out, too weak to hold me up.

"Relax," a woman's voice says from the shadows. "Your body's still in shock, it'll take a while for you to recover. You're going to be very weak for some time; your muscles atrophied while you were in here."

I blink slowly, trying to wrap my mind around my current situation. I try to speak; my voice sounds hoarse and rasping, as if I haven't used it in a long time. "What… happened?"

"In layperson's terms, you died," the woman replies. "You drowned, and the police fished your body out of the lake and brought you here."

I glance around again, and this time I realize where I am; a dark, cold room with the walls lined with large drawers. A chill runs through me.

I am in a morgue.

"How… how am I alive?"

"Because I brought you back," the woman says, as if that should be obvious.

I rub my head, trying to focus. "Why… would you do that?"

"Because I needed help," she replies. "And because you have potential."

"Potential for what?"

"Power." The woman steps forward, out of the shadows, revealing herself. She's about my height, pale with shoulder-length curly black hair, and her eyes are cold. She walks slowly around the table, her eyes locked on me. "How would you like to have power beyond anything you could imagine? The power to crush anyone who opposes you, gain vengeance on anyone who has wronged you, make things right in your life… in the world?" She smiles. "I can give you that. The same power that I used to bring you back from the dead. You want vengeance. So do I."

"You?" I ask. "Vengeance for what?"

Her eyes narrow. "For _this_." And then she _changes_ , her eyes glowing white as her hair disappears and her face distorts, hideous scars appearing, disfiguring her formerly beautiful face. I lurch backwards in shock. She remains motionless, letting me get a long look at her, and then the transformation happens in reverse as she returns to her original appearance.

"What the hell was that?" I whisper.

"That," she says, "is what was done to me many years ago. That's what I'm seeking vengeance for." Another ghostly smile crosses her face. "And I could use your help to do that."

"Who are you trying to get revenge against?" I ask.

"Werewolves," she replies. "A pack of them, far stronger and more vicious than the ones you've met. They did that to me, turned me into a monster and killed many others." Her eyes darken. "I'm going to kill them. And you're going to help me."

I blink. "And what if I say no?"

"Then I snap your neck and send you back to whatever afterlife you were living in before I brought you back. In your condition, you wouldn't have a chance of fighting back. But after we kill them, we can part ways, and you can live your new life however you want."

I consider for a moment, then nod. "Fair enough. All right, you've talked me into it. But I need to know exactly what we're going to do."

She smiles. "Oh, don't worry, I'll fill you in on the details."

I smile faintly and extend my hand. "Well, if we're going to be working together, we might as well be formally introduced. Matt Daehler."

"Yes, I know who you are," she replies with a soft chuckle as she shakes my hand. "Jennifer Blake. Pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the basic idea for this story is that after Matt died in Season 2, Jennifer (who, for the purposes of this story, was already in Beacon Hills at that time, observing the situation and establishing her cover identity prior to applying for a teaching job at the high school) revived him, bringing him back to life as a Darach like her. This will, obviously, lead to events unfolding somewhat differently than they do in the canon series. How differently, you may ask? Well, you'll just have to wait and see.


	2. Transformation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt begins adjusting to his new life, and Jennifer starts teaching him how to control his new abilities.

_**Matt** _

It takes a while for me to regain full muscle control, but within a few minutes, fortunately, I've recovered enough that I'm able to walk out of the morgue under my own power. Jennifer and I slip quietly out a side entrance and into her waiting car, and we drive off.

Over the next few days, I slowly grow accustomed to my new life. I'm a lot hungrier than I was before my death; I'm eating pretty much constantly. After a few days of this, I decide to ask Jennifer about it.

"Why can't I stop eating?" I ask, walking into the living room of her apartment and sitting down on the couch. She went to the trouble of getting an apartment with a spare bedroom, so at least I've had a bed to sleep on; that's done wonders to help me recover.

Jennifer, who's sitting in a chair near the lamp in the corner, looks up as I sit down. "It's because your body's still regenerating. While you were dead, you didn't decompose, fortunately, since you were frozen in the morgue, but you don't come back from something like that without a serious cost. That's why you've been sleeping so much, and why you can't stop eating when you're awake." She shrugs. "You're healing yourself. And it's more than that; you're evolving. You're not just returning to the way you were before; your body's still changing, becoming something more than human. That kind of power comes with a price. It'll be worth it in the end, but it's a slow process."

"Yeah, well, I hope you can afford my food bill until this 'process' tapers off," I mutter, biting into the apple I'm holding and slouching back onto the couch.

She chuckles. "Don't worry about it."

"Well, okay, then." I consider for a moment, then decide to ask her the question I've been waiting to ask ever since she told me why she needed my help. "So, since we've obviously got some time… tell me about these werewolves you want to kill."

A dark expression comes over Jennifer's face. "They're monsters," she says quietly. "Killers, murderers, all of them. They're the deadliest things I've ever seen. Trust me, nothing you've seen – normal werewolves, Kanimas, hunters – even comes close."

"What exactly makes them so dangerous?" I ask, taking another bite of the apple.

"They're Alphas."

I raise an eyebrow. "All of them? I thought there was only ever one Alpha in a werewolf pack."

"This pack's different. It's a pack comprised entirely of Alphas; each of them killed their own packs, and then they joined together to form a pack of their own. An Alpha pack."

I whistle. "Wow. So… do they have a leader? Some kind of super-Alpha?"

"Yes, they have a leader. He's called Deucalion. He's the strongest of them, so he's the one who makes the decisions."

I swear a chill runs through me when I hear that name. _Deucalion_. It's like I'm standing next to a block of ice, sucking all of the warmth out of the air around it.

"How many are there?"

"Five."

My eyes widen. _Five?_ "Do you know any of them besides the leader?"

"I know all of their names, and I know what they're capable of. Besides Deucalion, there's another man named Ennis; he's very strong, but he's basically a brawler, doesn't have too much fighting skill. There are two other males; they're teenagers, and they're also twins. Their names are Ethan and Aiden; individually, they're not as dangerous as the others, but they can merge together into a single giant Alpha with all of their combined power in one massive body."

"Yikes," I comment.

She pauses briefly. "And then there's a woman… Kali." She says the name with more venom than I heard her use for any of the other four, except perhaps Deucalion. "She's the most dangerous of the lot, probably, except for Deucalion. She's cunning, ruthless, and absolutely lethal, and she uses the claws on her feet as weapons as well as the ones on her hands."

My eyes have followed her throughout this description, and I've realized something. "This woman, Kali… she's the one who did this to you, isn't she?"

Jennifer's head snaps around. "What?"

"The way you talk about her, it's like you hate her most out of the lot; and you did say one of them nearly killed you, turned you into a monster… it was her, wasn't it?"

She actually looks surprised; clearly, she wasn't expecting me to put the pieces together that easily. After a few seconds, she nods. "Yes," she whispers. "Yes, it was."

I nod slowly. "Okay, so let me get this straight. Your enemy is a pack of five Alpha werewolves, all of which are brutal killers… and you're planning to go up against them with just the two of us?"

"We'll be stronger than they are, if my plan works."

"What kind of plan is that?" I counter. "You still haven't filled me in on the details."

She nods, a grim expression on her face. "Well, in that case, let me clue you in. You need to know this, anyway."

Jennifer sits up in the chair, her eyes locked on mine and her expression intense. "Okay, here's how this is going to work. First, I'm going to train you to develop and master your powers. Once that's done, we can get on with the real plan."

I nod. "All right, then. What's the 'real plan'?"

"If we're going to become stronger than the Alphas, we're going to need power. More power than we could ever achieve on our own. And I know how we can get it."

"How?" I ask.

"Well, as you know, I'm a Darach… well, we both are, now, but that's beside the point. A Darach is a 'dark form' of a Druid, a figure from Celtic mythology. A Darach gains power by carrying out an ancient ritual. A dark one, but a necessary one."

"What ritual?"

"It's not going to sound pleasant, Matt. But if we're going to get enough power to defeat them, it's the only way."

" _What ritual?_ " I demand, straightening up.

She gazes evenly back at me. "We have to commit sacrifices. _Human_ sacrifices."

I suddenly feel like there are ice cubes in my guts. I briefly feel nauseous. I've killed people before, both through Jackson and with my own hands, but that was either for revenge against the people who once killed me or for my own survival. This, on the other hand… this is a completely different level.

"You're… you're serious? We have to kill people? We commit murder to get stronger? That's your big plan?"

"It's the only way," Jennifer says matter-of-factly.

I consider. On one hand, the idea of butchering innocents who have done nothing to me for the sake of making myself stronger is repulsive to me. But, as much as I dislike the idea, it makes sense. Ancient cultures often committed human sacrifices as a prelude to battle, to wish their warriors good fortune and give them strength. This was the same principle, except that we actually _would_ be making ourselves stronger.

After a few moments, I decide that there's no point in disagreeing; if this is our only way of beating these Alphas, then so be it. "How many people would we have to…"

"Fifteen."

I shoot bolt upright, my previous acceptance going straight out the window. " _Fifteen?!_ Are you kidding me?! There's no way we could commit fifteen murders in this town without getting caught, let alone fifteen sacrificial executions!"

"You're forgetting; how exactly are they going to catch us, Matt? The police department in this town is completely inadequate; you proved that with your little rampage a few weeks ago. There's no way they'll suspect me, and legally, you're dead, so they'll hardly be looking for you."

A faint smirk comes to her face. "And besides, we won't look like ourselves when we're making the sacrifices, anyway."

"What are you talking about?"

She smiles, and then the expression turns hideous as she transforms to the disfigured, horribly scarred version of her face, her eyes glowing white. I flinch backwards involuntarily, falling back onto the couch, my eyes widening as I let out a gasp. Then the change happens in reverse as she swiftly changes back to normal.

"Right… right." I manage to relax, breathing deeply. "Okay, you've made your point. They're not going to realize it's _you_ , but what about me? I can't do that."

"Actually, you can," she replies, "or, at the very least, you can do something similar. That's how being a Darach works. You can transform, just like I can. You just haven't been able to do it yet, because you haven't tried." She narrows her eyes thoughtfully. "Actually, I think that should be your first lesson. Get up."

I stand up reluctantly, finishing the last of the apple as I do; I cross the room and toss the core into the trash, then wash my hands off in the sink and return to the living room. "All right, I'm ready. How do I do this?"

"Close your eyes and concentrate on your inner self," Jennifer says. I close my eyes and concentrate, focusing only on my own body and the sound of her voice. Nothing else exists for me, in this moment.

"Take slow, deep breaths. Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. Stay as calm as possible," Jennifer instructs softly.

I breathe in deeply through my nose, exhaling through my mouth. I keep my eyes closed, feeling my body relax.

"Don't try to force it; just let your energy be there, flowing through you. Now, look into your mind, and it should be obvious. For me, it felt like a cold spot, a block of ice within my mind; that's what helped me find it. I'm not sure if it'll be the same for you, but try to look for anything unusual."

Nodding slowly, I reach into my mind, searching through my thoughts, trying to quiet my mind's normal chatter. Gently, the torrent of thoughts ebbs, and silence overtakes me.

Then, almost without trying, I feel it.

It "feels" exactly like she'd said it would; like a ball of ice, resting in the core of my mind, something that was definitely not there in my previous life. In my mind's eye, it is glowing with a pale white aura, illuminating it for me.

"I see it," I say softly, my voice a whisper.

"Good. Now reach out, grasp it and pull it to the surface. Smoothly; don't force it to move, it'll surface when you let it. Stay relaxed."

Mentally, I establish a grip on the object, seize it solidly in my mind, and pull it smoothly to the surface, hauling it out of my subconscious.

I feel an unexpected surge of power, invigorating, like a surge of heat running down my spine, strength beyond anything I could have expected coursing through my body. It feels like my muscles, which were still fairly weak moments earlier, are now made of steel, flexing and coiling beneath my skin. I feel a strange, wrenching tug at my head, and something brushes my shoulders… hair? _My hair isn't that long…_ I don't have time to worry about that, because more power is now surging through me, more than I had thought it was possible for me, a simple human teenager, to ever possess.

And then, with a final surge of power, it is done. My change is complete. I have transformed.

I open my eyes.

"Impressive…" Jennifer breathes, circling me. I look around, scanning the room, and realize that my senses have been enhanced as well; colors seem brighter, shapes more clearly defined, and sounds that were faint before as now crystal-clear to me.

"It worked, I'm guessing?" I'm surprised by the sound of my voice; it sounds deeper and harsher than normal and has a rasping tone to it.

Jennifer smirks. "Indeed it did," she confirms. "Take a look." She gestures to a full-length mirror set into one wall of the living room, a design addition I've never really understood. I walk forward, into view of the mirror, and gasp in shock.

I've transformed, that much is for sure. I'm almost completely unrecognizable; my normal features are now vastly altered. My skin, which normally has, at the very least, a somewhat decent tan, is now as pale as a dead fish. It's almost translucent; all of the blood vessels close to the skin are clearly visible and have become more prominent, outlining a complex blue pattern under my skin that vaguely resembles circuitry in a machine. My hair, which was previously short and dark brown, has grown out; it now hangs to my shoulders, and has turned pure white. In addition to this, it has risen, lifted up around my head and seemingly stretched out in all directions, and swirls gently in the air as if I was underwater. My face is distorted, my skin translucent enough to partially show the bones of my skull under it, as if my face has become half-skeletal, and my eyes are glowing white, exactly like Jennifer's in her transformed state.

It's never been more clear to me that, although I look like an average teenager most of the time, I am no longer human.

I am a Darach.

And personally, I've never felt better. Never felt more alive.

I turn to Jennifer slowly. "What now?"

She answers by transforming herself, her eyes glowing white as her long black hair disappears and her beautiful face is disfigured by horrific scars – scars, I now realize, that were inflicted by the claws of an Alpha werewolf. I turn and look into the full-length mirror across the room, gazing at the reflection of the two of us, each of us in our full Darach form, utterly terrifying.

"Now," she answers, her normal voice twisted, deep and rasping, almost completely unrecognizable, "we can start your real training." A hideous smile crosses her face, making her ravaged visage even more horrible to look at. "Shall we begin?"

I let a smirk cross my own face, my eyes locked on hers. "Absolutely."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed the interaction between Matt and Jennifer in this chapter, as I actually love writing the dialogue between the two of them and playing them off each other. I also hope you enjoyed the description of Matt's new Darach form; I designed it to fit the theory that a Darach's transformed state reflects the circumstances of how they died. Jennifer was slashed to pieces by Kali and left for dead, so her Darach form is hideously disfigured and covered in scars. Matt, on the other hand, was drowned by Gerard, so his Darach form seems more appropriate for a drowning victim; his skin has become translucent, revealing the blood vessels in his torso and arms (which have turned a brighter blue than normal), as well as the bones of his skull, and he has the same glowing white eyes as Jennifer. His hair, meanwhile, has grown longer and turned white, and is now lifted up and "floating" around his head, just as it would be if he was underwater.


	3. Illusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jennifer teaches Matt a very useful trick that should help him conceal his true identity, and reveals her gameplan moving forward.

_**Matt** _

For the next three months, I throw myself into my training. I'm exhausted every night; I'd thought that, since I've spent years playing lacrosse, I'd be used to physical exertion by now, but that has nothing on training with Jennifer.

At first we take it easy, allowing my body to fully recover. But once I've fully gotten over the side effects of coming back from the dead, I'm able to start my real training. I improve so rapidly it's amazing. My muscles, which felt like rubber when I was first resurrected, now feel like they're ten times stronger than they were before my death. When I look at myself in the full-length mirror in my room, it looks like someone put on body armor under my skin. My power has increased too; when I first discovered my Darach abilities, I could barely make a spoon move from an arm's length away. By the end of the summer, I've developed my abilities to the point where I can make a locked door unlock itself and swing open from the other side of the room… or send a person flying across a room without touching them.

Jennifer has been very impressed with my progress, despite the fact that, even after all of my progress, she's still stronger than me. Only a few of our practice sparring matches have ended with me winning, and that was always through me getting lucky rather than through an advantage in power.

I've also been able to refine my transformation; I can now shift into my full Darach form and back at will, and I've found that my power is even stronger in my transformed state. According to Jennifer, I should have enough power to take on a Beta werewolf now, although I'm still not strong enough to fight an Alpha yet.

We haven't made any sacrifices yet; Jennifer wants to wait until we're both ready. I'm familiar with the ritual by this point, though. We have to make fifteen sacrifices, three for each of five categories: virgins, warriors, healers, philosophers and guardians. They have to be killed using an ancient method known as the Threefold Death; strangling with a garrote, slashing a throat, and crushing the skull. I'm still not sure how exactly that's supposed to make us stronger, but Jennifer seems very certain that it will.

Jennifer's going to be teaching at Beacon Hills High School when the semester starts; she says it's a good way to blend in and keep an eye on as many people as possible. I can see the merit in that; what I _do_ have a problem with is the other half of her plan.

"Are you out of your mind?!" I demand, pacing the living room of our apartment. "You want me to go back to school? What kind of plan is that?"

Jennifer looks up calmly from the chair in the corner. "It's going to work."

" _How_ is it going to work?! People are going to recognize me instantly! My face was plastered all over the news as a serial killer! _And_ I'm supposed to be dead!"

"It's going to work," Jennifer says, smiling faintly, "because you're not going to look like yourself."

That one stops me cold, cutting me off in the middle of my rant. I turn, looking at her curiously. "What do you mean? You're… you're going to make me look like someone else? You can do that?"

"I can do that," she replies, grinning.

Now I'm intrigued; I sit down across from her. "You mean, I'll look like another person?"

"Not quite. It's a simple illusion; it'll change your external appearance, but it's like a shell, a façade over your normal body. It won't take any energy to use it; you can make it dissipate with a thought, and reform it just as quickly. But your illusion will have more limits, since you're not as strong as I am. It'll probably only work on humans, not on supernatural creatures. So I'll be able to see your normal appearance... and so will the werewolves."

"So McCall and the rest of his little pack will know who I really am?" I ask, shaking my head. "That won't go well."

"You don't have anything to fear from them any more," Jennifer replies. A ghostly grin crosses her face. "Remember? And it's not like anyone else will believe them if they try to unmask you, since nobody else will be able to see your real face."

I nod slowly. "Right." A faint grin begins to materialize on my face. "Sounds almost… fun."

She smirks. "Looking forward to it now?"

"The looks on their faces, you mean?" I chuckle. "Definitely."

Jennifer stands and walks across to me. "Okay, here… let me put the illusion up. It'll feel unusual, but it won't have any harmful side effects." She holds both of her hands over my head, fingers splayed wide and curved. She begins to whisper, the words too soft for me to tell what she's saying. The air around me begins to ripple slowly, like a heat haze. Tendrils of light begin wrapping themselves around me like a cocoon, shrouding me. My vision blurs for a second, replaced by flashes of multicolored light, as if my vision is a television screen that has developed bad reception. I blink, and it suddenly clears. I feel something click into place, like a second skin over my own.

I stand, looking around. I hold up my hands, flexing my fingers and examining each of them. They look the same, but there's something… different about them.

I look up at Jennifer inquisitively. She smiles. "Look in the mirror."

I cross to the mirror and look at my reflection in it. It's my face, but when I blink, it changes; my skin is still pale, but my eyes are green, my hair is spiked up and has turned blonde, and I'm about an inch taller.

I smile, the expression a completely different look on this face. "Interesting." My voice sounds different too, higher-pitched and softer than normal.

"I thought so too," Jennifer says, chuckling. "Now that I've enabled it, you can control it yourself. Try removing the illusion and then putting it back up. Just imagine that the second skin around you falls away, then pull it back into place."

I nod, focusing on my face in the mirror and concentrating on the illusion surrounding me, imagine the façade peeling away and dissolving. I blink, and the illusion vanishes. My face is back to normal.

"Now put it back up," Jennifer instructs.

I narrow my eyes, summoning the second skin back to myself. It fits back into place, covering my face like Saran Wrap, molding itself to my features. I blink again, and the illusion is back. I grin. "Not bad." With another blink, the illusion dematerializes, and I turn to face Jennifer. "But I like my own face better."

Jennifer smiles. "So modest. Make sure you keep practicing until it's time to start at school."

"Will do." I grin back at her. "This is going to be fun."

She nods. "Yes, I know. But be careful, Matt; no one can know you're working with me until the time is right. We both need to blend in as much as possible."

I sigh. "All right, all right. Relax, Jennifer. I'll be fine."

* * *

The next week passes in a blur. Jennifer and I prepare for school; Jennifer settles into her official teaching position, while I master the illusion trick and become accustomed to using it in public. I can change my appearance quickly and effortlessly, with no energy expended in the process. I've been able to hone my powers, and I'm ready for the challenges that being in close proximity to McCall and the others will undoubtedly bring. We've also selected a cover identity for me; my fake name is Michael Daniels. Jennifer suggested it; she sees it as an inside joke or sorts, since her alias is Jennifer Blake, while her real name, apparently, is Julia Baccari. The "joke" lies in the fact that both of our aliases have the same initials as our real names.

I arrive at school early, hopping out of my car – a gift from Jennifer – and glancing around. I'm wearing my second skin, so I'm completely unrecognizable to any of my former friends who might see me… except for McCall, Isaac, and the other werewolves, of course. They'll know who I am.

And that notion actually pleases me. Because I'm looking forward to their reactions when they find out I'm alive. Actually, I can't wait.

I look around again, smile to myself, and walk confidently into school.

It's time for my debut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I figured that since Jennifer can canonically hide her true appearance using magic, Matt should be able to do the same thing once he's learned how.
> 
> Also, if anyone's wondering, Matt's false appearance, the illusion that he conjures to change his face and voice, would be portrayed by Paul Wesley, who plays Stefan Salvatore on The Vampire Diaries.


	4. Reactions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With his true identity concealed by an illusion, Matt goes back to school for the first time since his death, and his presence quickly starts having an effect on his fellow students.

_**Matt** _

I walk confidently into the school, glancing around as I stroll down the hallway. My new look – a black leather jacket, blue jeans, a white T-shirt and black shoes – combined with my second skin, means that no one around me has any idea who I am. And personally, that suits me just fine. I've found that I actually like the anonymity that my second skin grants me. Thanks to this illusion, I've been able to travel all over town, and no one I've seen has had the slightest clue that this isn't my real face.

I've been careful to avoid McCall and the rest of his werewolf friends, of course; they're the only ones who can see through my second skin, so that makes them a problem. Now, though, I'm finally ready to face them. In fact, I'm relishing the prospect.

First period goes by quickly; I don't see anyone I recognize, I'm introduced to the class as Michael Daniels, from Los Angeles, and I breeze through the class without any problems. Second period, I know, is Jennifer's class, English. She received the pupil list before school started, so I already know that several people I know personally will be in her class; McCall, Stiles, Lydia, and Allison. Lydia I really don't care about seeing; I have no interest in her, and never really did. Stiles was only ever an irritant, and now that I know I can crush his skull like an eggshell using only my mind, I don't really care about him. Plus, thanks to my second skin, neither of them will have any idea who I really am; McCall, being a werewolf, will know instantly. He'll probably try to tell them, of course, but I doubt they'd believe him, at least not at first.

That leaves the fourth one; Allison. Last year, my obsession with her bordered on the sociopathic, and played a significant role in getting me killed; if I hadn't stopped to talk to her in the station, Gerard wouldn't have caught me by the lake, and I would have survived that night. But ever since I was resurrected, that obsession, that burning fixation on her, has faded. As a Darach, I don't particularly care about that sort of thing; I'm not human, and I'm not going to act like it. The way I felt about Allison was childish, and, I now realize, completely unnecessary. There's no way she would ever have felt that way about me, and I'm now so far above her that it's ridiculous. She's an insect to me now, and I won't be affording her any more attention than I would for one… although I'd have no problem with crushing her like one if she gets in my way. That thought brings a faint, cold smile to my face, but I'm shaken out of my reverie by a collision with another student, a guy about my age with short dark hair.

"Oh, sorry, man," I apologize, stepping back.

"No problem," the guy says with an easy smile. Now I recognize him; it's Danny Mahealani, one of my old friends from the lacrosse team. He and I worked together last year to repair the videotape showing footage of Jackson's first Kanima transformation. Of course, I'd been the one who deleted the footage in the first place, and I'd later had to send Jackson after him so I could steal the remaining footage back, but who cares about technicalities?

"Are you new here?" Danny asks. "I haven't seen you around here before."

"Michael," I say, shaking his hand. "I moved here from Los Angeles over the summer."

"Really? Wow," Danny says, smiling in a friendly way as he nods to me. "I'm Danny. Sorry, I'd love to show you around the school, but I need to get to class. Nice meeting you."

"Thanks, you too," I reply, grinning as Danny walks off down the hallway. I can't believe how well this second skin works; it's like I'm actually a different person. I've known Danny for years, and he had no idea who I really was. It took me some time to get used to the way my voice changes when I use it, but I've grown accustomed to it.

I chuckle as I walk up to the door of Jennifer's classroom. I know everyone else is inside, but the bell hasn't rung yet.

_It's time._

I step forward, push open the door, and walk inside.

* * *

_**Scott McCall** _

I lean back in the desk and glance around the room, looking for any sign of Allison. Not yet. I sigh and slump again, lowering my head.

I find it hard to believe that we're actually back in school. It seems almost surreal that things are finally mostly normal again. Well, except for the suicidal deer that had rammed into Lydia's car the previous night, but other than that everything is surprisingly ordinary.

Finally, I see her; Allison, walking in through the door of the classroom, looking breathtakingly beautiful. I smile, my entire face lighting up as I see her. Last night was too panicked and rushed to actually look at her, but now I can see her in perfect clarity. I know I'm grinning like an idiot, but I don't really care.

Allison looks around the room for a moment, clearly looking for an empty seat. Then she starts walking straight towards me, and I glance over my shoulder to realize that the desk behind me is empty.

_Yes!_ I yell inwardly, but manage to restrain myself on the outside.

Allison walks up to me and looks at me for a moment, hesitating. She indicates the seat behind me with one hand. "Is… is anyone–"

"No! No, no, no. It's all you – all yours – uh, it's totally vacant." Inwardly, I groan and smack myself on the forehead, but I manage to avoid doing that outwardly. _Seriously? How stupid can you get?_

Still, it seems to work, because Alison smiles faintly, walks past me and sits down at the desk behind me. I look forward so she won't see the huge grin on my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the door of the classroom open. A young man wearing a black leather jacket walks in. I look over at him–

And freeze in my tracks, with a feeling as if my blood has turned to ice rippling through me. Shock immobilizes me as I stare, horrified, at the entrance to the classroom.

Standing in the doorway, looking around with a smile on his face, is Matt Daehler.

I'm pretty sure my heart stops.

I stare at him, my heart pounding. There's no doubt in my mind; I'd recognize his face anywhere. The cold blue eyes, short brown hair, and that cruel, knowing smirk are unmistakable. He's somewhat different, though; his muscles have grown, bulging under his shirt and jacket like cables under his skin. It's not extremely exaggerated, but he's definitely a _lot_ more muscular than he was when I last saw him. I can still remember that night at the police station with perfect clarity, when he'd put a bullet in my chest and tried to kill everyone I cared about.

But… Matt's dead. Gerard killed him, drowned him in the lake. I saw his body myself.

He's _dead!_

So how is he standing in the classroom, right in front of me? And how is nobody else reacting to this?!

I can't look away; my eyes are fixed on Matt, my hands shaking.

Matt turns, scanning the classroom casually. Then his eyes come to rest on me, and the grin on his face widens.

And then he _winks_.

I let out an involuntary growl before I can stop myself, my hands clenching into fists. Matt's smirk gets even wider, and he turns and walks over to an empty seat in the front row, sitting down and leaning back.

I turn to Stiles and grab his arm, pulling him towards me.

"Whoa!" he hisses. "What? What's up?" He notices the expression on my face, and sees that my hands are shaking, and his expression hardens. "What's wrong?"

I gesture back over my shoulder, jerking my head fractionally towards where Matt is sitting. "Behind me," I growl. "Front row, third to the left from the wall."

Stiles looks over my shoulder, and counts off three seats… but instead of the shock and horror I expect, all I see on his face is a vague expression of confusion. "Him?" He points, and I turn to see that he's pointing at Matt. I nod, not sure why Stiles isn't freaking out. Stiles looks back to me. "New guy?" His eyes narrow. "What's wrong with him? Is he…" He trails off meaningfully.

I stare at him, uncomprehendingly. How could he not recognize Matt? I lean in close, hissing into his ear. "Stiles – that's _Matt._ "

He looks at me with an astonished expression on his face. "Matt? As in Kanima-master, tried-to-kill-us-all Matt?"

"Yeah."

Frowning, Stiles glances back over at Matt. "Uh… no, it's not. I know what Matt looked like, and that guy doesn't look anything like him." He looks back at me. "You sure you're okay, Scott?"

Getting increasingly freaked out, I frantically look back at Matt, then to Stiles again. "Stiles, are you seriously telling me you don't see Matt sitting in that desk?"

Stiles looks at me, his expression still confused. "No; I see some guy I've never seen before. We're talking about the same guy, right? Leather jacket, pale, spiked-up blonde hair, green eyes?"

I stare at him, astonished. What is he talking about? "Stiles, that's not what I see. I see Matt. Leather jacket, pale, short brown hair, blue eyes."

He stares at me for a moment. "You're serious?"

" _Yes!_ " I snap, as quietly as possible.

"Well, then what's–"

Stiles is interrupted by the sound of phones buzzing; every cell phone in the class has just received a text. I pick up mine and look at the screen. The text is from a number I don't recognize. The message itself seems like some kind of quote. As I start to read it, I hear a voice speaking, reading it aloud.

"'The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds and the tranquil waterway, leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed somber over an overcast sky, seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness.'" A young woman, obviously the new English teacher, walks into the room, reading from her own cell phone's screen. She looks up and nods, holding up the phone. "This is the last line to the first book we're going to read. It is also the last text you will receive in this class." She held up her phone, clearly emphasizing the point.

"Phones off, everyone."

* * *

Ms. Blake (she'd told us her name immediately after the cell phone speech) is in the middle of her lecture when I catch a glimpse of Allison's arm in my peripheral vision, holding a note in her hand. I quietly reach back and snag it in my hand, lifting it up so I can read it.

There are only three words written on the paper. _Can we talk?_

This invitation could go one of two ways: it could either be wonderful or terrible news. But I've never been the type to back away from something involving Allison. I pick up a pencil and, as quietly as possible, begin to write back _Yes_. Before I can hand the note back, though, another teacher walks into the room and says something quietly to Ms. Blake. She immediately halts her lecture, turns and looks directly at me.

"Mr. McCall?"

I look up. _Seriously?_ It's the first day, I couldn't possibly have gotten in trouble that quickly! Oh, what the hell. I stand up nervously and follow Ms. Blake out of the room. As I walk, I pass the desk where Matt is sitting. I glare at him out of the corner of my eye as I pass; he responds with a calm, friendly smile.

Ms. Blake turns to me as soon as we're out of the room. "Uh… I'm sure it's an emergency if your mother needs you to leave school, but I'm going to give you a warning in the nicest possible way. I'm well aware of your attendance record, and I don't want to see you slip back into old habits."

"I won't," I promise. That's one thing I'm certain of; I've worked way too hard this summer to lose it now. "It's going to be different this year."

"Resolutions are only good if you stick with them, Scott," Ms. Blake warns.

"I will," I say firmly. "I promise I won't be ephemeral." Well, how about that; I've managed to start using SAT words in my conversations! Now if I can find out what's going on with Mom, and figure out how the hell Matt's sitting in that classroom very much alive, I should be able to call this a good day.

* * *

_**Matt** _

If I didn't have to maintain my cover, I'd be laughing hysterically right now. The look on McCall's face when he saw me was absolutely priceless. I've been waiting for four months to see that reaction, and the shock and horror on his face was worth every day of exhaustion from my training with Jennifer.

I chuckle softly to myself, ignoring the others. As Jennifer walks back into the room, she catches my eye and gives me a stern look – obviously her "Stay quiet, don't give anything away" look. I smirk in reply and whisper under my breath, "Relax, I'm just having some fun," as she returns to the front of the room. Since there aren't any werewolves in the room, I know that Jennifer and I are the only ones who heard that.

"A bit too much fun, if you ask me," she whispers as she returns to her spot in front of the chalkboard and continues her lecture. I idly take down a few notes, spending most of my time focusing my senses on Allison, Stiles and Lydia, the only other people in this classroom that I'm remotely interested in.

"Hey, Lydia," Stiles whispers, obviously unaware that I can hear him. "What – what is that? Is that from the accident?" I glance idly back out of the corner of my eye, to see that he's pointing at a Band-Aid on Lydia's ankle.

I sigh to myself. _Boring_.

"No," she whispered back. "Prada bit me."

_Oh, great_ , I think sardonically. _Now we're getting somewhere._

"Your dog?" Stiles asks. I roll my eyes. _Idiot._

"No, my designer handbag," Lydia retorts. I snort in amusement, but don't look back at them again. If I visibly pay attention to them, that could give me away. I doubt Stiles believes McCall, but he'll definitely be suspicious, so I need to avoid doing anything that might make it worse.

"Yes, my dog," Lydia says slowly.

"Has it ever bitten you before?"

_Oh my God, seriously?_ I think. _This guy has officially lost his mind. The habits of your crush's rat dog are what you're interested in when your friend just told you that there's an undead serial killer sitting in the classroom with you?!_

Lydia shakes her head, and Stiles leans in closer, continuing. "Okay, what if it's like the same thing as the deer? You know, like how an animal starts acting weird before an earthquake or something?"

I narrow my eyes slightly. _Deer? Okay, what the_ hell _is he talking about?_

"Meaning what, there's going to be an earthquake?" Lydia asks skeptically.

"Or something! I just… maybe it means something's coming. Something bad."

I smirk to myself. _Oh, if you only knew, Stiles_.

"It was a deer and a dog," Lydia continues, still skeptical, but also thoughtful; she's thinking it over now. "What's that thing you say about trouble coming in threes? Once, twice–" She is interrupted by a loud thud, and I whip my head around to see that a crow has just slammed into the window and bounced off of it, leaving a smear of blood on the glass. Jennifer walks over to the window, looking out nervously; I focus on the sky outside, and realize that a huge flock of crows – dozens, maybe hundreds of them – are flying directly towards the building.

Towards _us._

My eyes widen, and I lurch to my feet along with half of the other students just as the first crows hit the windows. After only a few seconds, one of them smashes through the glass, and more quickly follow. The class is in total chaos.

" _Get down! Get down, everyone!_ " Jennifer screams.

Everyone was hitting the floor, ducking wildly for cover. Stiles has flung himself on top of Lydia, shielding her. Allison has ducked under her desk, and Jennifer is crouched beside her own desk, covering several students and yelling at everyone to get down. That's when I realize that I've been standing there for about twenty seconds like an idiot, and I also dive for the floor. I hear a terrified scream, and realize that the girl whose desk is next to mine is also still up. Several crows have flown straight at her, and are currently pecking and scratching at her.

That does it. I draw the line at standing by and watching people who haven't done anything to me get attacked by a bunch of crazed animals, especially since I'm fairly sure that Jennifer and I are responsible for this. I yell, disguising it as a yell of fear, and let my power blast outwards around me. I seize the crows around the girl with my mind and send them hurtling across the room like missiles, crashing into the wall.

I lunge forward, yelling "Get down!", and grab the girl, pulling her under a desk and shielding her protectively. I let some of my Darach power flow through me, and I know my eyes have lit up, glowing white as I draw on my hidden energy.

As I lash out with my mind, the crows start flying around the room faster and faster, uncontrollably as I pull at them with my telekinesis. I hurl them around the room, sending them smashing into the walls, the ceiling, the desks, and the windows, until all of them have been knocked out of the air.

I release my grip on my power after about thirty seconds and sigh as the energy subsides and my eyes fade from white to the brown of my second skin's eyes. Fortunately, no one was close enough to me to see my glowing eyes, or there would have been a serious problem to deal with. I release the girl and glance around the room, looking at the carnage I've unleashed. Dead crows are lying everywhere, strewn across the room like confetti along with papers and shattered glass. Jennifer and the other students are all getting to their feet, looking stunned.

I glance down and offer my hand, helping the girl to her feet. "Thank you," she says softly, giving me a faint smile and wiping a trickle of blood from a cut on her forehead with her jacket sleeve. For the first time, I actually see what she looks like; she has long, curly blonde hair, blue eyes and is very pale. "I could've gotten really hurt if you hadn't helped me."

I smile back. "No problem. It's the least I could do."

"Well, thanks," she says again, this time smiling fully. "I'm Lacey, by the way." She holds out a hand nervously.

I almost say _Matt_ as I shake her hand, but I manage to remember my cover identity in time. "I'm Michael. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," Lacey says with another soft smile.

Turning, I look to Jennifer, who is now standing up, surveying the wreckage of the classroom. Our eyes lock, and she nods meaningfully. Surprisingly, I see the trace of a smile on her face.

And then I realize why.

We'd been waiting for this. Jennifer had said a couple of months earlier that once our power got strong enough, it would start affecting the natural world around us; animals would start behaving oddly for no reason, even appearing to go insane. This incident was proof that our power had grown dramatically over the summer, enough that we were now affecting the world around us simply by being here.

I smile faintly. But then I look back at Lacey, who's now carefully picking feathers out of her hair, and I don't feel as happy. We're hurting people now, Jennifer and I. We're doing it without even meaning to, but we're still doing it. And now we're going to start killing people. We'll be murdering fifteen innocent people, with families and friends, just to make ourselves stronger.

Then I reconsider, shaking myself mentally. _What are you doing, Matt? Stop thinking like a child. You're bigger than that now._

I nod slowly. _You're right._

I look around the room, realizing the importance of what's happened here. I did this. I tore this classroom apart, killed all of these crows – and I did it with my thoughts alone. Imagine what I could do at full power. Imagine what I'll be able to do after the sacrifices have been completed.

I smirk to myself, feeling the rush of power, of the thirst for vengeance, fill my veins.

But, as hard as I try, there's now a small amount of doubt in the back of my mind. A thought that what we're doing might not be right.

And as I look at Lacey, and see the pain that she just experienced as a result of my actions, I can't seem to make it go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so everyone knows, Matt will be my primary narrator for this story, but I will be including narration by several other characters, such as Scott, Stiles or Allison, when necessary, just to make sure I get the whole story.
> 
> Also, just in case anybody wants a face comparison for which actress would play Lacey, my ideal choice would be Evanna Lynch, who plays Luna Lovegood in the Harry Potter movies. She won't be playing a very large role for now, but you'll be seeing a lot more of her later in the story.
> 
> Next chapter, Matt and Jennifer discuss strategy, and our two Darachs finally commence the sacrifice ritual… let the carnage begin!


	5. Second Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jennifer teaches Matt more about how a Darach's powers work, and Matt, Scott and Stiles wind up attending the same party, but for wildly different reasons.

_**Matt** _

Jennifer and I are sitting in our apartment, discussing the plans for the first sacrifice.

"Okay, let me get this straight," I say, leaning forward from the couch I'm sitting on. "You want me to find out which of these kids are virgins, and then let you know so you can snatch one of them?"

"Basically, yes," Jennifer replies.

I sigh. "And how exactly am I supposed to know which of them are virgins, Jennifer? In case you haven't noticed, they don't exactly advertise it. It's not like people walk around with a label on their backs saying 'Virgin' in big letters. How am I supposed to tell?"

"You'll be able to tell," Jennifer explains. "It's part of being a Darach; when you're looking for someone, an individual or a certain type of person, they seem obvious. It's like a glow, an aura around them, that won't be present on anyone else. I call it second sight."

"Interesting," I say softly. "How do I use it?"

"Just focus on a person, or a group of people, and try to see past the exterior, to the inner being, the spirit. Think about who you're looking for, and focus on that thought, that need. The people you're seeking, the ones we can use for the sacrifice, will stand out like they're lit up, glowing. I'd suggest only using that if you have to, though. It requires some power, so when you use it…" She looks at me, and her eyes light up, glowing white. She indicates her glowing eyes. "This will happen."

"Got it." I consider. "So should I wear sunglasses when I'm using it, or something?"

"Just make sure no one's looking at you," Jennifer says. Her eyes narrow. "And must you make a joke out of _everything_?"

I grin. "Apparently, yes, I must. So where do we go to find some virgins?"

"I overheard a couple of students in my fifth-period class talking about a party tomorrow night," Jennifer says. "There'll be lots of people, and most of them will be drinking; we should start there."

I consider this for a moment, then nod. "All right, what do I do?"

"Go to the party and blend in. Use your illusion, stay hidden, and inspect as many of the students as you can with your second sight, focusing on finding virgins. See if you can find three who register as virgins, find out as much about them as you can, and then text me with the details about them. I'll take it from there."

I smile faintly, examining the apple I'm holding in my right hand. "Sounds good. Let's party."

* * *

_**Scott** _

Stiles and I are walking down the street, towards the party Stiles' friend invited us to. Personally, I don't think it's a good idea to be going to a party with what happened to Isaac this week, but Stiles is still trying to get over Lydia, and as his best friend, I have to do my best to help him get over it.

But that doesn't mean I have to like it.

"What?" Stiles asks, his voice annoyed.

"What? What do you mean, 'what'?" I ask.

"I mean 'what?'! And you know what!" he exclaims.

"What 'what'?"

"That look you were giving."

I sigh. _Well, this conversation isn't going anywhere quickly._

"I didn't give a look," I defend.

"There was a distinct look, Scott," Stiles says matter-of-factly.

"What look?!" I ask; I'm getting pretty frustrated by this point.

"The look that says the last thing you feel like doing right now is going to a party."

"It's not that," I argue. "It just seems a little weird going to a different high school's party."

"Look, one drink, all right? You'll be fine. It's Heather; we went to nursery school with this girl, okay? She promised to introduce us to all of her friends, so tonight no Allison, no Lydia..."

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I take it out. _Allison._

"Tonight, we're moving on!" Stiles continues excitedly.

I consider for a moment, and then ignore the call. Stiles is right. I need to spend some time not thinking about Allison, and this is the best way to do it.

"You're right," I say reluctantly.

"That's right, I'm right!"

"We're moving on."

"Onward and upward!"

I find myself actually getting enthusiastic. "Let's do this!"

"That's what I'm talking about!" We high-five.

Then, of course, I get nervous again. "How does my breath smell?" I ask.

"Dude, I'm not smelling your breath."

"Do you have any gum?"

"No gum, you're fine," Stiles insists as I follow him up the stairs and into the house.

* * *

_**Matt** _

I basically crashed the party, slipping in unnoticed among a large group of people earlier in the evening. Wearing my second skin, I'm able to move through the party without attracting much attention; since "Michael Daniels" is new at my school, and this is a different school, very few people know who I am. However, a combination of my second skin's overall appearance and the outfit I've chosen – all black, with a black T-shirt, a black leather jacket, black jeans, and black leather shoes – I'm drawing some attention from the girls at the party, and I've heard a significant amount of gossip about "the hot new guy" while I've been here. While that's amusing for me, I don't stop to consider any of them; I'm on a mission here, and there's no time to enjoy myself until after it's done.

I've already been at the party for an hour, and in that time I've made good use of my second sight ability. I've already counted at least a dozen people who are glowing with the white aura that marks them as the people I want to find; in this case, virgins.

Three in particular have caught my attention; a guy sitting in the corner by himself, who I can see is wearing a purity ring; a girl sitting on a couch, cuddling with another girl in a way that leaves no doubt that they're a couple; and the girl hosting the party, a stunning blonde – named Heather, apparently – with shoulder-length, curly hair and blue eyes.

Hmmm. What to do, what to do?

I've already taken candid photos of all three of them, using the camera in the new iPhone that Jennifer bought for me. I thanked her profusely for that, since my old cell phone got fried when Gerard dumped me in the lake. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's taking pictures of people without anyone noticing. I've been able to take an easily recognizable picture of the guy with the purity ring, the lesbian girl, and the blonde, so I can send their pictures to Jennifer later. But we're supposed to start actually making the sacrifices tonight, if at all possible, so I need to figure out how to get one of these three targets out of the house without anyone noticing.

For now, I decide to focus on the first target; the blonde girl, Heather. I wait in the doorway to the dining room, casually leaning against the wall in a position where I can see her. The girl's in the front room, chatting animatedly with one of her friends. I narrow my eyes, reaching out with my superhuman hearing to pick up what they're saying.

"…You know your first time isn't gonna be romantic, right? It's sort of gross and it kinda hurts," the other girl is saying.

"Yeah, I know," Heather says. "But I really don't care. Trust me, I'm ready for this."

The other girl smiles. "You don't want to wait for 'the one', huh?"

Heather smirks. "When I find 'the one', I want to be good at it." They both laugh.

I frown. This isn't good; this girl is obviously planning to find some guy and lose her virginity tonight. Which means that she won't be suitable for the sacrifice any more.

_Well, damn. What do I do about this?_

The obvious answer, of course, is to go find another virgin to replace her in the set, but I've never been one to give up that easily. I just have to wait until she's by herself. Even if I have to knock whatever guy she's with unconscious before they can have sex, that's still a fairly good plan.

I glance back towards Heather, just in time to hear her friend say, "So, which guy? Do you have someone in mind?"

Heather grins teasingly. "Oh, yeah. Absolutely."

And then the front door opens, and two of the people I was least hoping to see at this party walk into the room.

Scott and Stiles.

 _Just freaking perfect_ , I think sarcastically.

That's when Heather calls out "Stiles, hi!" in a loud, happy voice, hurries forward, throws her arms around Stiles and kisses him full on the lips.

I find myself rendered speechless for a moment. Then an idea enters my mind and I narrow my eyes to slits, knowing that they're glowing white as I activate my second sight. I see the four people there; Scott and Heather's friend are normal, but both Stiles and Heather are surrounded by the white aura that marks them as virgins.

 _Well, what do you know?_ I think. I almost laugh, but restrain myself considering the circumstances.

Scott looks like someone just hit him over the head with a crowbar; clearly he hadn't expecting this any more than I had.

"I'm glad you made it," the blonde says, ignoring Scott completely.

"Me too," Stiles replies, looking stunned.

"Come downstairs with me and help me pick out a bottle of wine."

"Yes."

And just like that, they're gone, Stiles following the girl out of the room like a puppy.

Scott walks over to Heather's friend; apparently, he thought he might have the same luck that Stiles did. "Hey," he says.

The girl gives him a once-over and walks out of the room without a backward glance.

"Well, that went well," I mutter sarcastically under my breath.

Suddenly, Scott's head snaps up, his eyes wide, and he looks hurriedly around the room.

Oh, right. I hadn't realized he could hear me.

I casually turn and walk away into the mass of partygoers, disappearing before he can see me.

As I walk, I take my phone out and quickly send a text to Jennifer. It's fairly simple; the picture I took of Heather, coupled with a brief sentence: _Virgin Number One. She's in the basement. Better hurry; she's planning to get lucky tonight, so you need to get to her first. Can't get her myself. Too many people._

Jennifer replies immediately. _Got it. Have fun. See if you can find two others before the party ends._

I smirk as I reply. _Will do._

"Michael?"

My head snaps up when I hear my fake name. A girl with long, curly blonde hair is standing in front of me. To my surprise, I recognize her; it's Lacey, the girl from Jennifer's English class who I met during the crow incident. She's wearing a white dress that brings out her blue eyes and goes very well with her pale skin and light blonde hair.

I smile, shaking her hand. "Hey, Lacey! Good to see you."

"It's good to see you too," she says softly, a faint tinge of pink coming to her cheeks as she ducks her head nervously and flashes a shy smile at me from under her eyelashes. My smile grows at her words, and as I realize that she's nervous around me. Well, that makes perfect sense. To be honest, she should be. I'm not human, I'm a Darach, and I shouldn't be acting like I'm a normal high school student. Not anymore.

So why am I suddenly so intrigued by her? And why did I make the effort to protect her when those crows were attacking her?

Honestly, I don't know. But I have every intention of finding out.

 _Ah, what the hell,_ I think, and take the plunge. I smile back at her – a real smile, not a false one or the cold smirk that's rapidly becoming my trademark – and speak in a gentle, pleasant voice. "Are you doing okay? I mean, after the whole bird incident, you were bleeding… are you feeling better?"

She nods, smiling. "Yeah, I'm much better now, thanks. It wasn't anything serious, just some scratches and cuts. I'll be good as new in a couple of days." She brushes back her hair to show me several small Band-Aids on her head and neck. "They're mostly healed already, but the doctors said I have to keep these on until the cuts are completely gone. So I just tried to hide them."

I grin, chuckling. "Well, I personally think you look beautiful tonight."

She blushes and looks down at the ground, smiling. "Thanks," she says shyly. "You look very handsome."

I blink, looking down at myself. Of all the words that could be used to describe my outfit, "handsome" wasn't one I would've come up with, mainly because it's all black, and I probably look like a motorcycle gang member from the 1960s minus the greased hair. But maybe Lacey just has a different vocabulary than I do.

"Thanks, that's really sweet." I smile, and Lacey blushes again.

I'm not sure why I do this, but I smile at Lacey, and, despite everything else that's going on right now, I decide that the party can wait. This is the first time in four months that I've gotten the chance to actually have a conversation with anyone other than Jennifer, and I'm not letting it slip away.

I look Lacey right in the eye, smile in a friendly way, and ask, "Would you like to get something to drink? I think there's a table with soda and water around here somewhere."

She smiles. "Yes, thanks. I'd like that."

"Me too." I lead Lacey off towards the drinks table, muttering to myself under my breath, "Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the explanations for some of the Darachs' magical abilities have made sense so far, as I've been trying to come up with believable answers for how Jennifer was able to do all of the weird stuff that we see her pull off in Season 3A.


	6. Realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Stiles try to do some planning, Scott is still Very Confused by Matt's presence, and Matt continues bonding with Lacey.

_**Scott** _

"Okay, what would a pack of Alphas want with Erica and Boyd?" Stiles asks as we walk down the hallway, headed towards our economics class. We'd just finished a meeting with Allison, Lydia and Derek, which had gone about as badly as one might expect.

"I'm not sure it's them they want," I admit. Then I stop in my tracks, looking around as I feel a chill run down my spine; the telltale sensation of another werewolf, close by.

"Okay, you think it's Derek? Like they're recruiting?"

I'm not listening, scanning the hallway in search of the source. I don't see anything, but the sensation is strong enough that I know the other werewolf was here just a few seconds ago.

"Scott!" Stiles yells. I turn back to face him; he's looking at me expectantly. "You coming?"

I nod and follow him down the hallway.

* * *

As Stiles and I walk into Economics class, I look around the room and immediately flinch.

Matt, with his usual mocking grin on his face, is sitting in the seat right next to mine.

I'm seriously starting to wonder if I'm going crazy; lately I've been seeing him in several different places, even at the party last night when I heard his voice. But every time I see him and point him out to Stiles, all he sees is another guy, with tousled dark hair and tan skin. For the life of me, I can't figure out what's going on.

I sit down reluctantly, with Stiles on my right and Matt on my left, and fidget uncomfortably for a few seconds before I look to my left out of the corner of my eye. Matt appears to be ignoring me, looking up at the front of the classroom. Then he glances over and sees me watching him. He grins, appearing totally at ease, and winks at me, before turning around as Coach Finstock walks into the room.

"All right, everyone, listen up!" Coach calls, writing something on the board. "Today we'll be discussing the stock market." He finishes writing and sits down behind his desk, chewing a piece of gum while he glances around the room. "Now, the stock market is based on two principles. What are they?"

 _Yes!_ I think. _I know this!_ I'd known those classes I took over the summer would prove helpful. I raise my hand.

"Yes, McCall, you can go to the bathroom. Anybody else?" Coach says dismissively.

"N-no, Coach, I know the answer," I say.

Coach, as I expected, bursts out laughing. I can't really blame him, considering how badly I did in his class last year, but it's still rude.

"Oh, you're serious," he says, realizing that I'm not laughing.

"Yes, risk and reward," I reply.

Coach grins in surprise, walking over to me. "Wow! Who are you and what have you done with McCall?" He laughs. "Don't answer that. I like you better." He claps me on the shoulder and returns to the front. "Now, does anybody have a quarter?"

Stiles fumbles through his bag, pulling out a quarter, and a foil packet with XXL marked on it – which I immediately recognize as a condom from the party last night – falls out onto the floor. I mentally sigh and clamp a hand over my forehead.

"Uh, Stilinski, I think you dropped this," Coach says, picking the condom packet up and handing it back to Stiles, who hands him the quarter. "And congratulations," Coach continues, walking back to his desk.

 _Oh, god,_ I think.

* * *

_**Matt** _

I feel great; the party last night was the most fun I've had in a long time. I've never really had an experience like that, where I could completely relax around someone. Lacey and I had spent the entire rest of the party talking; not about anything important, just about whatever came to mind. She'd told me about herself, and from my perspective, she's something of a contradiction. Academically, Lacey is superb. She's second only to Lydia Martin in terms of academic excellence: straight A's, president of a club she created to tutor students who are having problems with their schoolwork, and all-around a stellar student. But socially, she's the opposite: shy, uncomfortable in social settings like dances or parties, and usually not the type to engage in long conversations with people. I can tell that that last one is often a problem for her, but for some reason, it hasn't applied to me in the slightest. Not that I mind that.

"Okay, risk and reward!" Coach says, resuming the lesson. He takes a coffee cup from his desk and holds it up. "Put the quarter in the mug, win the reward." Setting down the mug on the floor, he backs several feet away and holds up the quarter Stiles gave him in his right hand. "Okay, watch Coach." He tosses the quarter in a calculated arc; it bounces once on the floor and lands directly in the mug.

The students all applaud. I smirk; only Coach Finstock would think of using a drinking game to help us learn about economics.

"That's how you do it!" Coach calls out, removing the quarter from the mug and tossing it to Danny. "Okay, Danny, risk or reward?"

"What's the reward?" Danny asks, turning the coin over in his hand.

"You don't have to take the pop quiz tomorrow."

"Coach, it's not a pop quiz if you tell us about it," Danny points out.

"Danny, you know I really expect more from you at this point," Coach says, taking the quarter back. "Really."

He walks over until he's standing next to me and places the coin on Scott's desk.

"Okay, McCall. Risk? Reward? The risk; if you don't get that quarter in the mug you have to take the pop – the _quiz_ , and you have to write an essay. Risk, more work. Reward…" he blows on his hand. "No work at all. Or, choose not to play."

"But isn't this just chance?" Scott asks.

"No," Coach replies. "You know your abilities, your coordination, your focus, past experience, all factors affecting the outcome. So what's it gonna be, McCall? More work, no work, or choose not to play?"

Scott studies the quarter for a moment, then sets it down on the desk.

"No play. Okay, who's next? Who wants the quarter?" Coach asks, looking around. Stiles drums on his desk and I roll my eyes and chuckle softly. _Idiot._

"There you go, there's a gambling man. Come on, step up, all right, Stilinski!" Just as Stiles walks over and gets into position, the door opens and I see the Sheriff walk in.

"Stiles," he says.

"Yeah, Coach, I got it," Stiles replies, too focused on the coffee mug to notice. Then he looks up and sees his dad in the doorway.

"Stiles, I'm going to need you to come with me," Sheriff Stilinski says, leading Stiles outside. I smirk faintly to myself; I don't need to bother listening in, because I know exactly what this is about. Obviously, the police have realized that Heather, the girl from the party, is missing. Last night went off without a hitch; Jennifer snatched her out of the basement while Stiles was upstairs looking for condoms. I was also able to confirm the pictures I'd taken of the other two virgins, and sent those on to Jennifer as well, along with information I'd overheard that would be helpful: the guy with the purity ring works as a lifeguard after school, and the lesbian girl is planning to go out camping tonight with her girlfriend.

"Yes! Reward!" Coach yells, drawing my attention back to the activities in the room; Danny has just skillfully bounced the quarter into the cup. "Who else?" Coach asks, retrieving the quarter from the mug and looking around the room. "Greenberg, put your hand down, you don't have a chance."

I consider for a moment, then raise my hand. Coach grins, looking at me. "All right, uh…" He looks confused for a moment. "Sorry, what was your name again?"

"Uh, it's Michael, sir. Michael Daniels."

Coach nods. "All right, then. Daniels! Let's see what you've got."

 _Piece of cake._ I smile, nod respectfully to Coach, then take the quarter from him and walk up to the front. I line up to throw, focusing on the mug, then pause and glance back. Lacey is watching me with a vaguely nervous expression on her face; she's obviously worried that I'm about to miss and that I'll have to do the essay as well as the quiz. I smile reassuringly, turn back to face the front, and channel a very small amount of my Darach energy as I toss the quarter.

It bounces once on the floor, then neatly clinks off of the rim of the mug and rattles securely into it.

"All right, Daniels!" Coach shouts. "Reward!" He claps me on the back; I grin and walk back to my seat, the class applauding. I would probably have landed that quarter in the mug even without using my telekinesis to confirm it, but I wanted to make sure. Lacey is smiling brightly as I sit down next to her.

"You were worried, weren't you?" I ask, smirking.

Lacey blushes slightly, then smiles back at me, now with a cheeky edge to her grin. "Never hurts to worry when boys think they can do anything," she teases.

I laugh at that, leaning closer to her. "Think you can do better?"

She grins back at me. "Maybe."

"Then why don't you try it?" I challenge, leaning back.

Lacey seems nervous for a moment. "Well, um… I guess–"

"Come on, you and I both know you'll ace whatever assignment you get whether you do it or not," I reply, grinning. "But wouldn't you rather not have anything to do at all?"

Lacey considers for a moment, and then nods. "All right," she says with a soft smile. "Why not?"

"All right, anyone else?" Coach calls. Lacey hesitates, then raises her hand. Coach grins when he sees her. "All right, Evans, let's see what you've got!"

Lacey walks up to the front nervously, taking the quarter from Coach. I focus my mental energy, preparing to catch the quarter telekinetically if she's about to miss – I don't want her to have to do extra work because I talked her into trying the game.

Just out of idle curiosity, I narrow my eyes and activate my second sight, thinking _Virgins_ as I do. I see the classroom with shades of gray cast over everything, those who fit the desired category glowing white. And, to my surprise, Lacey is illuminated with the white aura that marks a virgin.

My eyes widen. _Really?_

Enough is enough. I blink, and the second sight is gone. I return my attention to the game at hand.

Lacey focuses on the mug, narrowing her eyes in concentration, and then tosses the quarter. Without any help from me, it skips once on the floor, bounces in a high arc, and then lands with a single loud _clink_ directly into the mug.

A perfect shot.

Coach cheers, and the class applaud again, me loudest of all. "Nice work, Evans! Very nice!" Coach says, patting Lacey on the shoulder. She smiles hesitantly, and then the smile widens as she looks in my direction. I grin back, clapping for her, and for the first time in a long time, I feel happy about someone else's accomplishment. It's a good feeling.

Lacey sits down beside me, and I smile at her. "Great job! I said you could do it, didn't I? See how easy that was?"

She smiles back at me. "Yeah, I was expecting it to be more difficult." A smile crosses her face. "Ah, well. There's another life event crossed off my long list; I have now played a drinking game and won."

I chuckle. "You have a list of life events?"

"Of course," Lacey says simply. "Doesn't everyone? Now, I don't keep it written down," she adds, tapping herself on the forehead. "I keep it all up here." She grins.

"Well, considering how big your brain must be to be so smart, there's definitely plenty of room," I laugh, winking at her. She slaps me playfully on the shoulder, and we both break out laughing.

"Hey! Daniels, Evans!" Coach yells, causing us to turn quickly back to face the front. "Can you two keep it down?" he asks exasperatedly.

"Yeah, sorry, Coach," I say. He nods, turning back to the full class and holding up the quarter. "Okay! Who's next?"

As the class continues, Lacey and I both face front. After a few seconds, I glance over and see her glancing back at me. When she realizes I've seen her looking at me, she immediately blushes and turns back to face Coach as his next subject gets up and walks up to the front. I do so as well, but even as I turn my attention back to the lesson, I can't stop smiling.

And even though I know that this is a really bad idea, that I'm a Darach and I'm here to kill people, not make friends, or… whatever I feel about Lacey… I also know that there's a part of me that doesn't want to stop smiling. That doesn't want to stop looking at Lacey.

And that scares me more than anything I've experienced since Jennifer resurrected me. Because physical threats I can deal with easily now. Emotional threats… well, there haven't been any up until now. But somehow, I feel something for Lacey. Something real.

And for the life of me, I can't get that feeling out of my mind.

The really scary part, though, is that I don't want to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, other than continuing the stuff with Matt and Scott, this chapter was basically meant to flesh out the situation with Matt and Lacey, get a grasp on their relationship, and lay down some things for the road ahead, the biggest of which was Matt finally acknowledging how he feels about her. Obviously, this scares him, because he's never felt anything like this before except with Allison, and look how well that ended (mainly since that one was a creepy, unhealthy obsession on his part, not an actual genuine crush). Plus, he's a Darach now, and his job is basically to help Jennifer kill people, so he doesn't really have time for a potential relationship, which makes the situation that much more difficult for him.
> 
> Next chapter, Scott, Derek and Allison pay a visit to the bank in the hopes of finding their missing friends, and Matt finds himself drawn into the resulting chaos that follows.


	7. Lion's Den

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott, Stiles and Derek plan a bank heist to rescue their captive friends from the Alpha pack, while Matt decides to take a chance with Lacey.

_**Scott** _

"She's not dead!" Derek insists, pacing around the vet clinic. Isaac is sitting on the counter, still in shock after the ice bath he just went through to recover his dormant memories. The good news is that he found Erica and Boyd; they're being held prisoner inside the vault at the Beacon Hills First National Bank.

The bad news is that, according to Isaac, Erica is already dead.

"Derek, he said 'There's a dead body; it's Erica.' That doesn't exactly leave us much room for interpretation," Stiles says.

"Then who was in the vault with Boyd?" Derek demands.

A thought occurs to me, and I turn to Isaac. "Maybe it was the girl on the motorcycle? The one who saved you?"

"No," Isaac says. "She wasn't like us. But the one in the vault with Boyd was."

"What if that's how Erica died?" Stiles asks. "What if they, like, pit them against each other during the full moon and see which one survives? Like Werewolf Thunderdome!"

I sigh, exasperated. _Not really a good time for jokes, Stiles._

"Then we get them out," Derek says. "Tonight."

"Be smart about this, Derek," Deaton warns. "You can't just go storming in."

"If Isaac got in, then so can we."

"But he didn't get through the vault door, did he?" Deaton counters.

"We need a plan," I put in.

"How are we going to come up with a plan to break into a _bank vault_ in less than twenty-four hours?" Derek asks.

"Uh, I think someone already did," Stiles replies, reading something on his phone. "'Beacon Hills First National closes its doors three months after vault robbery.' Doesn't say here how it was robbed, but it probably won't take long to find out."

Derek isn't satisfied. "How long?"

"It's the Internet, Derek," Stiles says, grinning. Derek stares back humorlessly, until Stiles sighs and clarifies, "Okay, minutes."

* * *

_**Matt** _

I enter the apartment building where Jennifer and I have been living and head into the elevator. I haven't been able to stop smiling since the end of class. Most of it is due to what just happened with Lacey, of course, but that's not all of it. For some reason, ever since I'd gotten out of school, I've felt like I'm riding a serious sugar high; in fact, I actually feel stronger.

I pause, contemplating that notion. _Stronger…_

Then my eyes widen as I realize what this means. I burst out of the elevator and rush down the hallway, unlocking our room and ducking inside.

Jennifer is sitting on the couch, reading. She looks up as I enter and smiles. "You feel it, don't you?"

I set down my backpack and sit in the armchair, feeling light-headed. "What… what is that?"

"It's done," Jennifer says. "The first sacrifice is complete."

I turn, startled, to look at her. "You mean, the girl…"

"Yes," she confirms. "She's dead."

I exhale slowly. Heather, the girl I saw at the party, is dead. For some reason, I find it hard to take pleasure in that knowledge.

"When do we take the next one?" I ask.

"I'll handle it," Jennifer says, smiling faintly. "Taking the other two virgins should be easy, with the information you got at the party. Within two days, the first knot will be completed."

I nod. "All right, so while you're out murdering people, is there anything you need me to do?"

She considers for a moment, then shakes her head, a wry grin coming to her face. "Just your homework. I'm only your teacher for one of your classes, and you can bet that your other teachers aren't going to go easy on you."

I groan, rubbing my eyes. "Oh, come on!"

Jennifer laughs. "Get to work, kid. Don't worry, we're not doing anything tonight anyway. And I'll call you in tomorrow if I need any help."

I pick up my backpack and walk back to my room with an exaggerated sigh. "All right, fine. Whatever."

As I sit down next to my desk and start taking my homework out of the backpack, an idea occurs to me. _If she doesn't need my help tonight…_

I'm fairly convinced that if I'd been in a cartoon at that moment, a lightbulb would have appeared over my head.

I grin. _This might be a terrible idea, but as long as I don't have anything else to do…_

* * *

_**Scott** _

"Boys!"

My eyes snap open and I whirl around, falling out of the chair onto the floor as I see Stiles's dad standing in the doorway, glaring at us. Behind me, Stiles snaps awake, looking around wide-eyed.

"I've got to get to work; you two get to school." Sheriff Stilinski starts walking out of the room.

"Dad!" Stiles calls. He adds hesitantly, "Heather?"

The Sheriff looks down. "No, nothing yet." He turns and exits.

"Ten hours and nothing!" Stiles says, disgusted. He's justified; we spent the entire night trying to figure out how the hell those robbers got into the bank, and we have absolutely nothing to show for it.

"We're going to find something," I reassure him.

"'Something' doesn't make Erica any less dead or Boyd any less about to be dead."

"We still have time," I argue.

"Is this whole 'remain optimistic in the face of complete and utter disaster' a part of the 'be a better Scott McCall' program?"

"Not if it doesn't work."

Stiles sighs. "No, it works." He looks down at one of the dozens of pages we printed out last night and frowns in surprise, bending down and picking it up. As he looks at it, his eyes widen in shock. "Oh – Dad!" he yells, handing the paper to me and sprinting out of the room. "Dad! Dad!"

I look down at the paper, my eyes widening in surprise as I see a picture of Sheriff Stilinski in front of the bank, arresting one of the robbers.

* * *

_**Matt** _

I stroll into Economics class, my usual confident smirk on my face. I glance over and see, as I expected, Lacey, sitting in her usual desk. She's wearing a light green top, a white scarf, and a black skirt today, which brings out her blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

I actually catch myself staring for a moment, then shake it off. _Get ahold of yourself. You look like an idiot._

Allowing the smirk to return, I stroll across the room, seating myself next to Lacey. Scott isn't here yet, so I see no harm in chatting with her for a while. She's clearly been going through some notes, as she didn't notice me sit down. She jumps in shock when I tap her on the shoulder, but she relaxes as she turns to face me.

I grin. "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to scare you."

Lacey blushes. "It's okay," she says with a giggle. "How are you?"

"I'm good, thanks," I reply. "How are you?"

She shrugs. "I'm okay. Better now that you're here." Instantly, her eyes widen in shock, and her face turns scarlet as she realizes what she just said. She looks down at the desk, hiding her face with her hair.

I blush too, but I'm able to will it down. _Matt, stop being an idiot!_ I smile, as reassuringly as I can, and reply, "Well, thanks. That's really sweet of you."

Lacey glances over at me through her hair. "You really mean that?" she asks softly. "You don't think that sounds weird?"

My grin widens, and I realize that it's actually a genuine smile for once. "Yeah, of course I mean that, Lacey! How could I ever think that sounds weird?"

Lacey blushes again. "Thank you," she murmurs, her voice faltering.

I still don't know how I came up with the idea to do this, but I smile at Lacey and take the plunge. "So, Lacey… can I ask you something?" There are times for joking around, and this isn't one of them; my voice is gentle, but serious.

Lacey nods nervously. "Yes… what is it?"

"Well… I, um…" I sigh. "I'm sorry, I'm not good at this sort of thing. I…" _Damn it, Matt, be a man!_ I scold myself. "Would you like to… hang out sometime? Like, outside of school? With me?" I look away, blushing.

Lacey's face lights up. "Really?"

I nod slowly. "Y…Yeah."

She taps on my shoulder, causing me to look back at her, and smiles. "I'd love to."

I smile brightly. "Great!"

"When… what day did you have in mind?" Lacey asks.

"How about tonight?" I immediately wince at how hasty that sounded. "I mean… if that works for you."

Lacey seems surprised, but she nods, smiling. "I'll have to talk to my parents and ask them if it's okay, but if it is… then yeah, I'd love to."

I grin. "Okay, then. It's a date."

Lacey smiles back, but looks down at her desk, seemingly nervous. She taps her fingers on the desk, and asks, "So, what did you have in mind? For us to do tonight, I mean?"

Fortunately, I do, in fact, have a plan for that.

I lean back and flash my usual smirk. "How good are you at bowling?"

* * *

_**Scott** _

After school, we all gather at Derek's loft to discuss our plan for breaking into the bank. Fortunately, Stiles's dad was able to get the information regarding the break-in at Beacon Hills First National, so Stiles has been able to come up with a plan to get inside.

"Okay," Stiles says, unfolding a blueprint of the bank and setting it down on the table. He points to one spot circled in red. "You see this? This is how they got in. This is a rooftop air conditioning vent; it leads down inside, into the wall of the vault, which is here, okay?" He marks the vault's location on the blueprint with another red circle. "One of the robbers was lowered into this shaft. Now, that space is so small that it took them twelve hours to drill into that wall – which is stone, by the way. Then, throughout the rest of the night, they siphoned the cash back up to the guys on the roof through that one little shaft in the wall." He stands back, spreading his arms in satisfaction. "Boom!"

I study the map, feeling a bit of skepticism. Those markings seem very small. "Can we fit in there?"

"Yes, we can," Stiles replies, "but very, very barely. And they also patched the wall, obviously, so we're going to need a drill of some kind; I'm thinking maybe a diamond bit–"

"Look, forget the drill," Derek interrupts, examining the diagram.

Stiles looks at him in surprise. "Sorry?"

"If I go in first, how much space do I have?" Derek asks.

Stiles looks over at me, a sarcastic grin appearing on his face, and then turns back to Derek. "What do you think you're going to do, Derek? You're going to punch through the wall?"

I sigh inwardly. _Oh, great._

Derek crosses his arms, mocking Stiles by copying his smirk. "Yes, Stiles; I'm going to punch through the wall."

Stiles isn't deterred. "Okay, big guy, let's see it. Let's see that fist. Big old fist, make it, come on. Get it out there, don't be scared."

Derek rolls his eyes, holding up one hand and clenching it into a fist.

"Big, bad wolf? Yeah, look at that! Okay, yeah, see this?" He grabs Derek's fist, placing his other hand, palm open, a few inches in front of it. "That's maybe three inches of room to gather enough power to punch through solid–" Derek casually swings his arm forward, his fist smacking into Stiles's palm. "OW!" Stiles recoils, clutching at his hand.

I glance at Derek, raising an eyebrow. He doesn't reply.

"He can do it," Stiles groans, still cradling his hand.

"I'll get through the wall," Derek says matter-of-factly. "Who's following me down?"

Peter, who's sitting over on the stairwell, looks up. "Don't look at me; I'm not up to fighting speed yet. And, honestly, with Isaac out of commission, you're not looking at very good odds yourself."

"So I'm supposed to just let them die?" Derek demands.

Peter shrugs. "One of them's already dead."

"We don't know that!"

Peter sighs, rolling his eyes as he gets to his feet. "Do I have to remind you what we're up against here? A _pack_ of Alphas, all of them killers; and if that's not enough to scare your testicles back up into your stomach, try to remember that two of them can combine bodies to form one giant Alpha." He looks around the room, meeting each of our eyes in turn. "Now, I'm sure Erica and Boyd are sweet kids; they're going to be missed."

"Can someone kill him again, please?" Stiles asks.

Peter crosses his arms, his gaze locked on Derek. "Derek, seriously? Not worth the risk."

Ignoring him, Derek looks over at me. "What about you?"

"Well, yeah, if you want me to come–" Stiles says, clearly not understanding.

"Not you!" Derek snaps.

Stiles turns to me, nodding in realization. "Scott?"

I consider for a long moment, but in reality my decision is already made. "I don't know about Erica. But if Boyd is still alive, then we have to do something." I look over to Peter, then back to Derek. "We have to try." I hesitate. "But…"

Derek's eyes narrow. "But what?"

"Who's the other girl? The one locked in there with Boyd."

* * *

_**Matt** _

Once again, the bowling ball smashes through the pins, knocking all ten of them down in one shot.

My eyes widen in shock. "Wow!" I turn to Lacey, who's grinning in excitement. "You're _really_ good at this!"

She shrugs. "I used to go bowling a lot when I was a kid; my uncle owns a bowling alley in Los Angeles. We moved out here when I started high school, so I just… stopped, I guess." A smile appears on her face. "Still got it, I guess."

"You _guess?_ " I ask. "You gotten a strike or a spare on every round! And you just got _three strikes in a row_ on the last one!"

Lacey chuckles. "Just like riding a bike, I guess." She frowns. "Although I was never very good at riding a bike, honestly."

We both burst out laughing.

"Okay, it's time for your last shot," Lacey says, a mischievous glint coming into her eyes. "Let's see if you can beat me."

My eyes narrow, and I smirk. "We'll just see about that, won't we?" I lift the bowling ball, trying not to display how easy it is for me to carry it due to my new strength, and walk up to the line, checking the display board as I do. So far, Lacey and I have been neck-and-neck the entire time; I haven't been using my telekinesis, because that would take the fun out of it. Bowling was one of my favorite activities as a child; I did it at every possible chance I got, and I became very skilled at it. Even after dying and being resurrected, those old skills are still there; and, like everything else, those skills are heightened through my newly enhanced strength, speed and reflexes.

I focus in on the pins at the far end of the track; I need to get three strikes to beat Lacey. A grin forms on my face, and I swing and release the ball.

The ball rockets down the center of the line and hits the pins dead-on, toppling all of them.

Lacey cheers behind me, clapping.

I grin. _That's one._

Walking back over, I wait for a few seconds until my bowling ball emerges from the machine; picking it up, I stroll back out onto the wooden floor, refocusing on the pins. I inhale deeply, and exhale as I swing my arm forward, releasing the ball. Once again, it hits the pins squarely, and they all topple.

My smirk grows, as more cheers ring out behind me; several other people, in addition to Lacey, are observing our game, obviously impressed.

_That's two,_ I think.

Once again, I return, pick up the bowling ball, and grin to Lacey. "Okay, here's the last one. Get ready to lose."

She smiles teasingly. "We'll see."

I wink at her, causing her to blush, and walk back out to the alley. Locking my eyes on the pins, I lean forward slightly, balancing myself. I inhale a deep breath, draw my hand back, and swing–

And, at that exact moment, a sensation like icy water running down my back hits me, along with a rush of… energy, of power, an electric feeling, as if I just drank a giant cup of coffee in an instant.

"Ah!" I gasp, as I flinch, stumbling, and the ball leaves my hand. It rolls down the aisle, but curves just before reaching the end. It still hits the pins, but two of them remain upright as the others clatter to the floor.

The scoreboard dings, tallying up our totals. I look back over to Lacey, who's watching me with a mixture of amusement and concern in her eyes.

"Are you all right?" she asks, hurrying over to me.

"I… yeah, I'm fine," I say. "I just… I don't know what happened. Something feels weird."

Lacey leads me back to our seats, and I sink onto the chair, breathing deeply to calm myself. That energy is still within me, flowing through my body as it merges with the power that I already possess.

That's when I recognize the feeling; it's exactly the same sensation that I felt after Jennifer killed that girl Heather. A sacrifice has been made.

One of the other two virgins is dead.

I inhale sharply when I realize that, but Lacey doesn't notice; she's too focused on making sure I'm all right.

I take a deep breath, then exhale slowly, trying to calm my power. I manage to restrain myself, and turn to Lacey with a weary smile. "It's okay, Lacey. I'm fine."

"Well, you don't seem fine," Lacey says.

I chuckle. "It's okay, trust me. I'm all right. Nothing's wrong."

She seems doubtful. "Are you sure?"

I look up at her, smiling. And, for some reason, I decide to say, "Of course I'm sure. I'm here, having a great time, and actually having fun for the first time in a long time. And, best of all, I get to spend it with you. How could something be wrong?"

Lacey stares at me, her mouth open slightly. "Michael… that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me." She hugs me tightly, and I wrap my arms around her, holding her close. I've never hugged a girl like this before. Come to think of it, I've never really hugged _anyone_ before, besides my parents when I was a kid.

For a moment, I close my eyes, and I lose myself, breathing in the sweet smell of her hair; she smells like roses.

Then the moment passes; I let go, and she steps back. I smile at her. "So… I think we should probably be going. We finished the game, after all, and your parents _did_ say to call them as soon as we were done."

Lacey smiles. "Yeah, you're right. Hang on, I'll call my mom."

As we walk out of the bowling alley, Lacey fishes her cell phone out of her pocket and calls her mom to come and pick her up. While she's on the phone, I remove my cell phone from my pocket, shivering slightly in the cool night air, and text Jennifer.

**Matt:** _Did you just take the next one?_

Within thirty seconds, she replies.

**Jennifer Blake:** _Yep. Two virgins down. I'm going to go find the next one. Having a good evening?_

Chuckling to myself at the absurdity of this situation, I type up my reply.

**Matt:** _Yeah, had a lot of fun. Think I'll head home now. See you later._

**Jennifer Blake:** _Later._

I replace the phone in my pocket as Lacey walks over to me. "Okay, so I called my mom. She was having dinner a few blocks from here, so she'll be here in a couple of minutes."

I nod. "Okay, sounds good."

As we sit down on a bench next to the street to wait, I notice that Lacey's shivering; she's still wearing her outfit from school, and her arms are bare. Even with the scarf around her neck, she must be freezing.

"Pretty cold, isn't it?" I ask, smiling. She nods and keeps shivering, rubbing her arms in an effort to warm up.

"You know, I do have a jacket, in case you need one," I say.

Lacey's eyes widen, and she shakes her head. "No, it's okay. You need it."

"Oh, come on, you're freezing!" I unzip and pull off my leather jacket, sliding it around her shoulders. She resists for a moment, but then relents, sliding her arms through the sleeves and zipping it up. I put an arm around her shoulders, holding her close to help her warm up. She hugs me back; obviously, she knows that I must be cold too, since I was only wearing a white T-shirt under the jacket.

"Now, isn't that better?" I say, grinning.

"Yeah, definitely," she admits, smiling.

We stay there for a long moment, nestled together. My chin rests on top of her head, since I'm about eight inches taller than she is, and she's leaning against me. Hesitantly, I reach out and take her hands in mine, rubbing my thumbs over her cold skin to warm them up. Lacey shivers.

"You okay?" I ask softly.

She turns her head slightly, looking up at me through her hair. "Yeah," she says, smiling faintly. "I'm okay."

I brush a lock of hair from her forehead, so I can see her eyes. She blushes again, and I grin. My grin fades, though, when my gaze drops from her eyes to her lips. I swallow, wondering why my mouth suddenly seems dry, and refocus on her bright blue eyes. She reaches up, placing her right hand on my cheek.

Slowly, we lean in towards each other, our eyes locked, breathing deeply and slowly. It's still cold, but neither of us can feel that at this point.

I speak softly, my eyes now inches from hers. "Lacey… I…"

And, as luck would have it – because karma's a bitch that way sometimes – that's precisely when a car horn blares.

Lacey and I both jerk upright, the moment shattered, as a sleek silver van pulls up next to the curb.

Lacey gets up, unzipping my jacket and handing it back to me. "Here you go," she says, smiling. "I have a heater in the car; you'll need this more than I will."

I nod, smirking faintly as I take the jacket from her and put it on. "I'll… see you tomorrow, then."

She nods, smiling. "I'll be looking forward to it."

I grin and hug her one last time, and then let her go. She opens the door of the car, hops in, and closes the passenger's door behind her. She waves to me as the car drives off down the road.

I look around and sigh to myself, zipping up the jacket.

_Matthew Daehler, you are an idiot._

But the only thing I can think of, in that moment, is the feeling of Lacey's hand on my cheek, of her breath on my face. If I'd leaned an inch farther forward, I would have been kissing her.

I turn and walk off down the street towards my apartment, grinning like an idiot. I know I look stupid right now, but I don't care. This date – if I can call it that – went perfectly. I couldn't have hoped for a better ending to this day. I'm riding a euphoric high; it seems like nothing can get in my way.

This state, as it would later turn out, lasts for about twenty minutes, before fate conspires to screw it up once again.

* * *

_**Stiles Stilinski** _

I've spent the last half an hour pacing back and forth inside Derek's loft, thinking about all of the ways this plan could go wrong. I'm currently standing by the window, looking outside at the rising full moon and biting my nails nervously.

"I can't take waiting around like this," I mutter. "You know, it's nerve-racking. My nerves are racked; they're severely racked!"

"I could beat you unconscious and wake you up when it's over," Peter offers dryly. He's sitting on the stairs again, leaning casually against the guardrail.

Ignoring him, I return my attention to the moon. "Do you think Erica's really dead?"

"Do you think I care?"

I turn away from the window and start pacing again. "It's just… I don't understand the bank, though. Okay… I mean, why wouldn't they chain them up in some underground lair or something? They're an Alpha pack, so shouldn't they have a lair?"

"They're werewolves, not Bond villains," Peter replies, sounding bored.

A realization hits in my mind. "Wait a sec, wait a sec! Maybe they're living there, you know? Like, maybe the bank vault reminds them of their little wolf dens!"

Peter raises an eyebrow. "Wolf dens?"

"Yeah, wolf dens!" I turn, my eyes narrowing in puzzlement as I regard Peter. "Where do _you_ live?"

"In an underground network of caves hidden deep in the woods," Peter deadpans.

My eyes widen. "Really?"

"No, you idiot!" he shoots back condescendingly. "I rent an apartment downtown."

I sigh. "Okay, fine. Still, that just proves there's something up at the bank." Something else occurs to me. "And… why wait around for the full moon, huh? Why not just kill them all whenever they want to?"

"Maybe they think it's poetic," Peter offers, still sounding bored.

I shake my head. "They've already had three full moons to be _poetic_."

"And you've only had one full hour to be so annoying–" Peter's eyes widen suddenly, and he stands up, walking over to the table with the documents my dad gave me about the bank and the robbery.

"No, go ahead, finish what you were saying," I snark. "You were saying I'm annoying, what were you going to say then?"

"What are the walls made of?"

Well, _that's_ not what I was expecting to hear. "What? I don't know… like wood, and brick–"

"No, the vault!" Peter cuts me off. "The vault; the walls, what are they made out of?" He scanned the blueprint, but saw nothing helpful. "Where would it say the material? The type of stone?"

"Oh, hang on!" I say, grinning in realization as I rummage through my bag – which is full of more documents – looking for the one I need. "Yeah, here. See, it's got to be in here."

Peter joins me, and we look quickly through all of the books that I brought with me. Finally, I find it; the details on wall composition, including that of the main vault.

"There, that's it!" I call, pinpointing the spot on the page where it's located. I don't recognize the term; I'm even having trouble figuring out how to pronounce it.

"Hecatolite," Peter whispers to himself, his eyes widening in shock.

"Is that awful? That sounds awful."

Peter whirls to me. "Get them on the phone! Call him, now!"

"Okay!" I yell, grabbing my phone and dialing. "Why?"

"Because Boyd and that girl aren't going to kill each other; they're going to kill Derek and Scott."

* * *

_**Scott** _

The stone gives way, cracking apart and crumbling. Derek somersaults into the room; I follow, stepping over the rubble that our entrance created. One glance around is enough to confirm it; this is the vault we need.

"Boyd?" Derek calls out, not seeing anyone in the room. I hear a growl, and Boyd slowly walks out of the shadows, his eyes glowing yellow.

"Boyd?" Derek asks. Boyd doesn't reply; he just glares at us. His fingers twitch, his hands clenching.

My phone rings, and I answer it. "Stiles, now's not the best time."

" _Scott!_ " Stiles yells over the phone. " _Scott, no, listen to me, okay? You've gotta get out of there. Look, the walls of the vault are made with a mineral called hecatolite. It scatters the moonlight._ "

"What does that mean?" I ask, feeling a chill of foreboding.

"We're here to get you out, okay?" Derek says to Boyd, who still doesn't reply.

" _Look, it keeps the moonlight out, okay?_ " Stiles says urgently. " _They haven't felt the full moon in months._ "

" _Think about it like the gladiators in the Roman Coliseum,_ " Peter puts in. " _They used to starve the lions for three days, making them more vicious, more out of control. Deucalion has kept them from shifting for three full moons, diminishing their tolerance to it._ "

" _Scott, they're going to be stronger,_ " Stiles warns.

" _More savage, more bloodthirsty,_ " Peter adds. " _Scott, they're the lions. They're the starved lions, and you and Derek just stepped into the Coliseum._ "

I turn nervously, seeing shafts of moonlight pouring through the gaping hole that Derek and I left in the wall.

_Oh, crap,_ I think. "Derek, we've got a problem; a very big problem."

As I talk, a girl walks out of the shadows to join Boyd. Her eyes are also glowing yellow, and she has shoulder-length brown hair and pale skin.

Derek freezes in shock. "Cora?" he whispers.

I look to the girl, then back to Derek. "Who?"

"Cora?" Derek repeats.

"Derek?" the girl – Cora, I'm assuming – asks, her voice strained. Her eyes widen. "Get out!" she growls. "Get out _now!_ "

" _Scott!_ " Stiles yells over the phone. " _Scott!_ "

I'm not listening; I glance down at the floor just in time to see a line of black dust ringing the perimeter of the room.

I inhale sharply. _Oh, no_.

That's when the vault door opens, revealing – _Ms. Morrell?!_ What the hell is going on?!

And just when I think it can't get worse, she drops a handful of the mountain ash powder onto the floor, completing the seal around the room. With a flash of blue light, the barrier is solid. All four of us are trapped in here.

"No!" I yell. "No, wait!"

It's too late; she's gone, and Boyd and Cora snarl, their eyes blazing yellow as they shift, their fangs and claws extending.

I exchange one glance with Derek, and I know what he's thinking.

_This isn't going to end well._

And then they charge.

* * *

_**Matt** _

I'm walking down the street, on my way home, when an odd sound causes me to stop. To a human, the noise would be totally inaudible, but I can hear it clearly.

Snarling. The sounds of werewolves, more than one, from somewhere inside the large building across the street from me.

Since there aren't any cars coming from either direction, I hurry across the street, my eyes narrowing as I focus my superhuman hearing, picking up the sounds of snarling, roars and chaos. Clearly, a major fight is taking place in there

Then my eyes widen as I hear a voice, one I recognize.

" _Look out!_ " the voice shrieks in horror.

I frown. _Allison?_

" _No, don't break the seal!_ " another voice yells, who I recognize as Derek Hale.

" _Boyd!_ " Allison screams. I hear a snarl, and the sound of pounding footsteps on a stone floor, coming from inside the bank, but moving quickly towards the front entrance.

Moving towards _me_.

My eyes widen in surprise, and I immediately summon up a new illusion, one that Jennifer taught me recently; I can take on the appearance of whatever I'm near, whether it's the side of a building, the trunk of a tree, or just a shadow. This makes for perfect camouflage.

I've only barely managed to summon my illusion, making myself identical to the pattern of stone on the wall, and press my back against the wall, concealing myself, when the front door of the bank bursts open. Two figures, obviously werewolves, rush out of the bank and down the front steps. Letting out simultaneous snarls, they drop to all fours and take off down the block, towards the preserve. I'm left staring after them, my eyes wide in shock.

_What the hell was that?!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, the pack hunts for Boyd and Cora, and Matt tries to figure out how to deal with the situation… before he ends up having an unexpected encounter with a couple of former friends.


	8. Hunting Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott, Isaac and Derek get help from the Argents in their search for Boyd and Cora, while Matt decides to follow the action and Jennifer goes after the last two virgin sacrifices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for a violent death and some fairly-descriptive gore in the final Matt-POV scene of this chapter, just so you guys know ahead of time.

_**Matt** _

I move through the trees like a shadow, maintaining my cloaking illusion as I do. To any observer, my body would look like a blur as it constantly shifts and flows, taking on the appearance of its new surroundings as I run.

Normally I wouldn't have bothered to chase after the two werewolves – so they might kill a few hikers, what do I care? – but I'm curious, and I want to know what exactly is going on here.

As I vault over a fallen tree, I hear a sound that I instantly recognize; a scream, a girl's voice, echoing through the trees.

I skid to a halt, my feet rustling in the fallen leaves, and listen. After another second, I hear another scream, and then a loud roar.

My lips curve in a smirk. _There you are._

With a whisper of leaves, I'm gone again, hurrying quickly and silently towards the source of the noises.

* * *

_**Scott** _

I catch up to Derek and Isaac, who have stopped in a clearing and are looking around, breathing heavily. We just had another run-in with Boyd and Cora, which, to no one's surprise, didn't go particularly well. We did manage to stop them from killing three defenseless people, but Boyd and Cora got away again. And that's not the worst of it, if the call I just got from Stiles is any indication.

"Her scent disappears here," Derek mutters, looking around. He and Isaac turn to face me as I enter the clearing.

I hold up my phone, sighing heavily. "Stiles just called me. They killed someone, Derek."

Isaac's eyes widen in horror. "Who?"

I shake my head. "I don't know. He said it was at the pool. Throat ripped out, blood everywhere."

Derek frowns. "That doesn't make any sense. The pool's all the way on the other side of the woods; we haven't tracked them anywhere near there."

"Derek, they killed someone," I say grimly.

"How are they moving so fast?"

"Derek–"

"They can't be that fast on foot!"

"They killed someone!" I snap. "Some totally innocent kid is dead, and it's our fault!"

Derek's anger fades, and he sighs. "It's my fault."

I step forward, looking him in the eye. "We need help."

"We have Isaac now," Derek says.

"I mean real help."

They both look at me with surprise; Isaac seems offended. I sigh, raising a hand. "Sorry. But they're too fast for us. All of us. Too strong, too… rabid."

"We'll catch them," Derek says firmly.

"And what happens when we do?" Isaac inquires sarcastically. "Hold them down until the sun comes up?"

Derek exhales slowly. "Maybe it would be easier just to kill them."

"We aren't going to kill them," I argue. "That's not the right thing to do."

"What if it's the _only_ thing to do?" Isaac asks. "What if we can't even catch them?"

"Then we find someone who knows what they're doing," I say.

Derek turns to me in surprise. "Who?"

I wince a little inwardly, but keep my voice calm. "Someone who knows how to hunt werewolves."

* * *

_**Matt** _

As soon as Scott, Derek and Isaac head off into the woods, I drop silently out of a large tree at the edge of the clearing, landing poised in a crouch. My illusion worked to perfection; they never had any idea that I was there.

I take my phone out of my pocket and text Jennifer.

 **Matt:** _Are you in the forest right now?_

To my surprise, she responds within seconds.

 **Jennifer Blake:** _Yeah. How did you know?_

 **Matt:** _Because two rabid werewolves are on the loose right now. We might want to stay in the apartment until this is over. Something tells me it's going to get violent._

After a long moment, she replies.

 **Jennifer Blake:** _I'm heading to the school. If you're in the woods right now, you should meet me there._

**Matt:** _Got it. See you there._

Replacing my phone in my pocket, I take off at a jog, once again using my illusion to conceal myself in case I encounter anyone out here.

* * *

_**Scott** _

Fortunately, my plan panned out; although Chris Argent wasn't willing to listen to me at first (in fact, the first thing he did was shove a gun into my face), a look at the body by the swimming pool was enough to convince him to help us.

Now, about half an hour later, the four of us are back in the preserve. Chris dumps a large black bag on the ground as Derek, Isaac and I gather around him.

"Tracking them by print?" Chris asks me.

"Trying to," I acknowledge ruefully.

"Well, then you're wasting your time," Chris says simply. "There's only one creature on Earth that can visually track footprints, and that's man." He stands up, walking over to the prints. "And if you aren't trained like me, then you won't know that this track is Boyd's," he says, pointing to one set of prints, then the other, "and these are..."

"Cora's," Isaac says.

"No," Chris replies, "they're yours. You trampled Cora's as soon as you walked over here." He straightens, glancing at each of us. "Look, I know the three of you are focusing half of your energy on resisting your own urges under the full moon, but that puts you at a severe disadvantage to Boyd and Cora, who have fully given in. They've put the pedal to the floor, while you three have barely hit the speed limit."

"So what do we do?" Derek asks.

"Focus on your sense of smell." Chris looks around at the trees, then back to us. "Actual wolves have been known to track their prey up to a hundred miles a day by scent. A trained hunter can use scent to attract them. If the wind is with them, wolves can follow a scent from a distance of two miles, which means we can draw them to us… or into a trap." Pulling a net out of the bag, he tosses it to me. "Another good thing is that it's a full moon, so they'll have a higher heat signature than normal. We can use that to our advantage." He removes several pairs of night vision goggles from the bag, tossing one to each of us. Isaac and I put ours on, but Derek simply glances down at his and shakes his head. "Thanks, but I've got my own," he says, looking up. His eyes flash red, and he tosses the goggles back to Chris.

* * *

We're now standing on the cliff overlooking Beacon Hills, trying to figure out which way Boyd and Cora would have gone.

"Remember, we aren't hunting wild animals," Chris says. "Underneath those impulses are two intelligent human beings, and they can rely on that human side; it's suppressed, but it's there, reminding them how to mask their scent, cover their tracks, and survive." He turns to Derek. "When was the last time you saw your sister?"

Derek closes his eyes. "Not in years. I thought she'd died in the fire."

"Do you feel like you have a lock on her scent?"

Derek shakes his head. "No."

Chris turns to me. "Scott? How confident are you in your skills?"

"Honestly, most of the time I'm trying not to think about all of the things I can smell," I admit.

"All right," Chris says. "The problem is, when they breach the woods they'll hit the residential area, and once they pass the high school they're right in the middle of Beacon Hills."

"They're not going to kill everything they see, are they?" Isaac asks anxiously.

"No," Chris answers. "But there is an important difference to recognize. Wolves hunt for food, and at a certain point they get full. Boyd and Cora are hunting for the pleasure of a kill, for some primal, predatory satisfaction that comes from ripping a warm body to bloody shreds… and who knows when that need gets satiated."

"We can't kill them," I say decisively.

"What if we can't catch them?" Derek counters.

Chris appears to be considering something. "Then maybe we just need to contain them," he murmurs. Abruptly, he raises a hand, pointing to a large, familiar building. "There's no one in the school at night, is there?"

"You want to trap them inside?" Derek asks.

Chris nods. "If there's somewhere with a strong enough door; no windows, or access to the outside."

"What about the boiler room?" Isaac suggests. "It's just one big steel door."

"You're sure the school's empty?" Chris asks.

"It has to be," I say. "No one can be there this late, right?"

Chris removes several objects, shaped like long metal stakes, and drives one of them point-first into the ground. "These are ultrasonic emitters," he explains. "It's one of the tools we use to corral werewolves, push them along the direction where we want them to go." He presses the top of the emitter, and I immediately grab at my ears in pain as an incredibly loud whine fills the air around us. Derek and Isaac do the same.

"And if gives off a high-pitched frequency that only they can hear," Chris finishes. He looks over and smiles as he sees all three of us covering our ears.

"No kidding," Isaac mutters.

"These are going to drive them to the school?" Derek asks.

Chris nods. "And then it'll be up to you to get them into the basement."

"Does anyone else want to rethink the plan where we just kill them?" Isaac grunts.

"It's going to work," I say. I turn to Derek, who's looking at me doubtfully, and repeat, "It'll work."

* * *

_**Matt** _

I move through the woods at superhuman speed, ducking under branches and hopping over tree roots. The effort of simultaneously using my illusion to match my surroundings and making sure I stay focused on running so I don't crash into a tree is putting a significant strain on me, and I'm using a significant amount of power to do it, enough that my eyes have lit up, glowing white.

After considerably less time than I expected, I emerge from the trees and find myself just up the road from the school. Maintaining my cloaking illusion, I sprint down the street, arriving outside the front entrance and ducking behind a planter box just as a trio of fast-moving figures – Scott, Derek, and Isaac – run up to the school. Scott and Isaac break open the front doors and wait outside, while Derek walks into the hallway.

I frown. _What're they up to?_

As I look on, two other figures come into view, sprinting towards the school. _These_ werewolves are making no effort to conceal themselves; their eyes are glowing yellow, and their fangs and claws are extended. They snarl at Scott and Isaac, who enter fighting stances as their own eyes light up.

With a blaze of headlights, a car pulls up in front of the school, beeping its horn at the two werewolves. They spin away and charge towards the school, but before they reach the doors, they veer away and leap upwards, jumping all the way to the roof in a single vault.

"They aren't going through the school," Scott says, his voice barely audible from my position. "They're going over it."

To my surprise, Chris Argent emerges from the car. "The rear doors," he says. "Someone has to get them open. I'll go."

"No," Isaac says. "I'm faster."

I grin. _I'm actually interested in whether they succeed here… and now I know where to go to see the action._

Still using the illusion to camouflage myself, I take off running, around the corner of the school building and towards the rear parking lot.

I round the corner of the building just in time to see Isaac facing off against the other two werewolves, when a brilliant flash of light illuminates the scene, sending all three of them flinching back. A second flash and a shower of sparks prompts both crazed werewolves to turn away from their intended course and rush towards Isaac. He ducks away from them, and they run straight through the open doors and into the school.

Isaac glances back towards the source of the flashes of light, and I follow his gaze. My eyes widen in surprise.

Standing on top of a school bus is a slim, black-clad figure, carrying a crossbow in one hand. I see the familiar face, and my lips curve in a smirk.

_Allison._

* * *

_**Allison Argent** _

As I watch Boyd and Cora enter the school, I see Isaac glancing back. He clearly sees me; our eyes lock for a long moment, and then he turns and races into the school after the two rogue werewolves.

I turn to leave, but as I do, my gaze falls on something else.

Standing near the edge of the rear parking lot is a tall, humanoid figure. I can't distinguish any identifying features; I don't see a face, although it's close to me. The only "face" I can see is a pair of glowing white eyes, with no pupils or irises.

As it walks slowly towards me, the thing's body seems to act almost like an octopus; its color and shape are always changing, constantly morphing and reshaping itself as it moves. It would be almost impossible for me to describe it, because the eyes are the only things that I can see clearly. Those are the only things that never change.

The most unusual thing, however, is the feeling I get when I look at it; a feeling of pure, unadulterated terror. It's as if this creature is emanating an aura of fear and darkness, so strong that it reminds me of my childhood nightmares about monsters under my bed. I take a step back, shivering with dread.

As the thing – or whatever the hell it is – stares at me, I reach into the quiver on my back and remove an arrow. As soon as I've notched the arrow onto the bowstring, however, the creature ducks back around the corner of the building and is gone.

I stare in the direction that the creature vanished in for a moment, still not entirely sure if I actually saw it, and then reality snaps back into place. Turning, I hurry away, hopping down off of the bus and running back towards my apartment.

* * *

_**Scott** _

Well, all things considered, this day could have gone a lot better. We managed to lure Boyd and Cora into the boiler room, only to find out that our new English teacher, Ms. Blake, had been locked in the room with them. Derek went in alone, knocked them both unconscious and saved her, but he was beaten to a pulp in the process. He's already healing, though, and we were able to get Boyd and Cora out of the school safely.

As Isaac, Chris and I load their unconscious bodies into the car, I find myself looking over the car, towards the woods at the back of the school. And, for a moment, I think I can see someone standing among the trees.

I take a few steps towards the figure, straining to see who it is. Then my eyes widen as I see it clearly.

It's Matt. He's standing right at the edge of the trees, his eyes locked on me. For a long moment, he seems calm, but then he flashes a smirk at me and raises a hand, waving.

My eyes narrow, a growl rumbling in my throat.

Matt's smirk widens, and he turns away, walking back into the trees. In an instant, he's gone.

"Scott?" Isaac asks, snapping me out of my daze. I turn to him, surprised. He looks at me with a concerned expression on his face. "Are you okay?"

I blink, regaining my composure. "Yeah… yeah, I'm okay."

As Isaac and I heave Boyd into the backseat of Chris's car, I can't get that image out of my head.

Why am I seeing Matt everywhere I go? Am I losing my mind? Or… is he somehow actually here?

* * *

_**Matt** _

I make my way back through the woods, moving in a wide arc around the school. As I walk, I'm cursing myself. Not for toying with Scott again – I'm actually getting a kick out of that – but for being sloppy. Somehow, Allison saw me, even with my cloaking illusion in place. Something tells me that's going to be a problem.

Shrugging, I sigh. _It's not like it matters. There's no possible way she could have recognized me, and at school I look like a completely different person. I'm fine._

By the time I return to the front of the school, Scott, Derek, and the rest of their gang have vanished. Jennifer is alone, looking at the horizon as the sun rises.

Discarding my cloaking illusion, I summon my second skin, guising myself as Michael Daniels again and strolling casually up to her.

Jennifer glances over, recognizing me, and smiles. "About time you got here."

"Got held up," I reply. "Sorry."

She shrugs. "It's fine. It's not like I was ever actually in danger." A grin flickers across her face.

"So, how'd it go before the wolves showed up?" I inquire. "Did you find the last virgin yet?"

Jennifer smirks. "Indeed I did. Would you like to see?"

Somewhat hesitantly, I nod. Jennifer immediately starts off towards the woods, and I follow behind her.

After about twenty minutes of hiking through the trees, we stop in front of a particularly large one. Tied to it with a rope is a teenage girl, around my age, with brown hair. Her eyes are closed; she's clearly unconscious.

"Why didn't you just kill her?" I ask in surprise.

"I didn't have enough time," Jennifer explains. "I would have, but you texted me telling me there were werewolves in these woods, and the last thing we want is to run the risk of getting caught. So I ran back to the school to avoid attracting any attention."

"Ah, got it." I nod. "So… now what?"

Jennifer smiles slowly, reaching down and pulling up her skirt to reveal a sheath strapped to her left calf. From it, she draws a singularly nasty-looking knife, with a razor-sharp blade that's about nine inches long. From her pants pocket, meanwhile, she extracts a length of tough leather cord, wound in a circle.

"Now," she says coolly, "we finish this."

My eyes widen in surprise, but Jennifer doesn't wait. Stalking forward, she swiftly unwinds the cord from its loop, then wraps it around the girl's neck and around the tree trunk behind her. Making several loops in a businesslike way, she grips a wooden handle at one end of the cord, tying the cord around it so that she can tighten the loop just by pulling on the handle.

Jostled by the movement, the girl starts waking up. Her eyes open slightly in confusion, blinking against the early morning light. She sees me standing in front of her, and looks at me in confusion. "Who… who are you?" she whispers. "Where am I?"

I can't think of a way to answer her, not when I see Jennifer standing behind her, bracing herself and grasping the handle of the garrote. "I…"

The girl tries to move, but she's still tied to the tree and can't do anything. Her eyes widen in fear as she tries to lean forward, and the wire of the noose presses against her throat.

And that's when Jennifer yanks hard on the garrote, pulling it tight and causing the wires to dig into the girl's throat with crushing force.

The girl gasps, thrashing against the ropes, and tries to scream, but she can't; only a strangled gurgle comes from her mouth. Her eyes are bulging in terror, and she's choking as the wire crushes her throat.

I stagger, feeling a rush of shock rush through me as my eyes lock on hers, and take a step backwards. She stares wildly at me, and I can tell what she's thinking.

_Help me! Please, please, help me!_

Then Jennifer reaches around the tree, grasping her head, and viciously slams her skull backwards against the trunk of the tree.

The girl lets out a strangled screech of pain, but that quickly fades as Jennifer bashes her head against the bark again. This time, I hear a crunch of bone.

A third blow, and this time the crunch of her skull shattering is plainly audible. The girl stops struggling and goes limp, sagging against the garrote.

And Jennifer reaches forward again, this time holding the knife in her free hand, and, with a quick, practiced motion, slashes the girl's throat.

The girl's final sound is a dying gurgle as blood bubbles in her slashed throat. Blood pours from the final, fatal injury, running down her neck and chest and soaking into her shirt. Her eyes are blank, her body hanging lifelessly from the ropes tying her to the tree. Her fingers twitch once more, and then go limp.

She's dead.

For a moment, everything is silent. I feel a sick rush of horror run through me; my stomach lurches, and I have to lean over, breathing deeply and bracing myself against a tree, to keep myself from throwing up. The brutality of the sacrifice is not what I was expecting; I'd thought it would be quick and efficient, not like this.

Jennifer looks at me, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Do you feel it yet?" she asks softly.

And then, just like that, I feel it.

A surge of power, considerably more than what I felt from the first two sacrifices, surges through me; I feel stronger, faster, better in every way. My eyes light up, glowing white; Jennifer's do the same, and a gust of wind springs up, swirling the leaves around us.

"The first knot is complete," Jennifer says softly, smiling. "And trust me, this is nothing compared to the power we'll have when we've completed all five."

I swallow, turning away from the girl's body. "We should go. The police in this town may be incompetent, but they'll find her eventually."

Jennifer nods. "Right."

As we walk back towards the school, I can't stop thinking about what just happened. On one hand, the power I gained from the sacrifice is impressive, and the feeling of getting stronger is addicting; not to mention that we'll need this power if we're going to take on the Alpha pack. On the other, however… I just witnessed a brutal murder, which Jennifer committed solely for the sake of increasing our power. And I can't get over the revulsion and horror I felt at seeing that. I can't imagine actually doing that myself, but Jennifer did it without blinking.

The question in my mind is; what is the difference between us? Why am I faltering at doing what's necessary if we're ever going to kill the Alphas?

And, more important; if I don't want this, what _do_ I want?

To my dismay, I don't have any answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Derek and Cora have a run-in with Deucalion, Scott and Isaac face off against the twins, and Matt overhears an important discovery.


	9. Double Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Isaac clash with the Alpha twins, Derek has a violent encounter with Deucalion, and the Darachs' presence is finally discovered by the pack.

_**Matt** _

I stroll through the doors into the locker room, glancing around. It hadn't taken much effort for me to convince Coach that "Michael Daniels" wanted to join the cross-country team; I want to be able to keep an eye on Scott and the others, and this is the easiest way to do it.

As I enter, my eyes fall on Scott and Stiles talking in low voices next to one row of lockers. I turn and slip around the corner, straining my ears to listen in.

"…I looked everywhere," Scott is saying. "It's like he just walked away. Left his car, his dog…"

I grin. Of course; they're talking about the latest sacrifice, a young man who Jennifer snatched from outside the animal clinic last night. I felt the surge of power early this morning; he's already dead. Though, of course, they don't know that yet.

"Okay," Stiles replies. "Was he, like…" He pauses. "Could he have been a virgin, maybe? Did he look like a virgin? Was he, you know, virginal?"

My eyes widen in surprise. _How the hell does he know about the virgin thing? There's no way anyone should have been able to spot that connection._

"No, definitely not," Scott retorts sarcastically. "Deaton makes me have sex with all of his clients. It's a new policy."

I snort in amusement, but duck back into cover before he can notice me.

Both Scott and Stiles chuckle briefly, but then Scott sighs. "No, I don't know if he was a virgin. And why are you talking like he's already dead? He's just missing."

"Missing and presumed dead," Stiles argues, "because he's probably a virgin, Scott! And you know who else is a virgin? Me! I'm a virgin, okay? And you know what that means?" He takes a step closer to Scott, his voice rising slightly and his words coming faster. "It means that my lack of sexual experience is now literally a threat to my life. Okay, I need to have sex, like, right now. Someone needs to have sex with me, like, today. Like, someone needs to sex me _right now!_ "

A locker door slams, revealing Danny, who has clearly been listening to the last part of the conversation. "All right," he says casually. "I'll do it."

Stiles whirls, his eyes wide. "What?"

"Come to my place at nine o'clock," Danny adds. "Plan to stay the night. I like to cuddle."

I chuckle, certain now that he's joking.

"Oh, that is so sweet," Stiles says in surprise. Then he pauses. "Are you kidding?"

"Yes, I'm kidding," Danny replies, rolling his eyes and walking away.

"Okay, you know, you don't toy with a guy's emotions like that, Danny!" Stiles yells after him. "It's not attractive!"

I almost choke and double over, trying to keep from breaking down in a hysterical fit of laughter. Fortunately, I'm able to restrain myself and calm down, just before Coach enters the locker rooms.

"I'll remind you all," he calls out, "cross-country is not optional for lacrosse players. I don't need you turning into a bunch of fat-asses in the off-season." He glances around. "So work on that."

I grin, glancing over at Scott and Stiles.

This is an interesting development. The bad news is, they know about the sacrifices, and they know that virgins are being targeted. The good news, on the other hand, is that they apparently have no idea that virgins aren't the only people we're targeting.

* * *

The students all gather at the cross-country trail, in the hills near the school. I notice Scott, Stiles, Isaac, and Danny among the gathered kids.

Then I see someone else; two nearly identical young men, obviously twins, strolling nonchalantly through the group as if they own the place. Something about them holds my interest.

That's when it hits me. Jennifer had said that two of the Alpha pack's members were twin brothers.

Out of curiosity, I narrow my eyes and activate my second sight, thinking _Werewolves_. Scott and Isaac light up immediately, yellow auras glowing around them.

And, as I suspected, the twins' bodies are glowing red.

I smirk to myself. _Yeah, I thought so. And the red means they're Alphas._

Then Coach's whistle blows, calling us to attention, and I refocus on the task at hand.

The twins head straight to the front, walking past on either side of Isaac, who's crouched, ready to start running. I notice that they look down at him with identical smirks; clearly, they know he's a werewolf. Isaac's eyes widen in surprise – and rapidly mounting rage – as he looks up at them.

The whistle blows, and the kids start running down the track.

"Isaac?" Scott asks.

"It's them," Isaac growls, and launches himself into motion.

"Daniels, get a move on!" Coach yells, snapping me out of the momentary trance.

"Right, sorry, Coach!" I call back, before dashing off down the track.

* * *

_**Scott** _

I turn a corner in the track, just in time to see one of the twins collide with Isaac, knocking him sideways off the trail and jumping after him. I snarl, racing after him and breaking through the trees just in time to see both twins pinning him to the ground.

"Ethan," one of them says with a grin, "I always forget; how many bones in the human body?"

"I don't know," the other replies. "Let's count." He draws back a fist, just as I reach them and swing my own punch, decking him in the face as hard as possible. Something crunches in his jaw and he's knocked off his feet.

"That's one," I snap.

The other twin snarls, his eyes flashing red. My eyes glow yellow, and I roar at the twins. Isaac jumps to his feet, growling as his own eyes flash yellow.

For a moment, the four of us are frozen in a bizarre standoff; all of us ready to charge, but all waiting to see which of us is going to attack first.

That's when a scream rings out from somewhere nearby, interrupting the impending fight.

The twins, Isaac and I all turn, snapped out of our anger, and start running towards the source of the cry.

I break through the trees, back onto the cross-country trail, and skid to a halt in horror. Isaac stops next to me as I walk forward numbly, coming to a halt next to Stiles.

About twenty feet in front of us, tied to a tree by a leather cord wrapped around his neck, is the body of a young man. He's obviously dead; he's covered in blood, and I can see a gash in his throat. The worst part is that I recognize him; it's the guy from the clinic last night.

"It's him, isn't it?" Isaac asks softly.

I nod numbly, unable to believe this is happening.

More screams fill the air, and then I see Sheriff Stilinski and several other police officers walking up to the tree, forcing the gathering students away.

"Hey, get out of the way!" Sheriff Stilinski shouts, waving his arm. "Get back!" He turns to the deputies. "Get this area cordoned off before they trample every piece of evidence."

"Back up!" one of the deputies calls. "Everyone back!"

"Get these kids out of here!" Sheriff Stilinski orders. He's interrupted a moment later as Stiles ducks past the deputies and approaches him, gesturing frantically at the body.

"Dad, just come here," Stiles says urgently. "Look, look. Look at it. It's the same as the others, see?"

"Yeah, I see that," the Sheriff says grimly. "Do me a favor; go back to school, yeah?" He glances over to Coach. "Coach, can you give us a hand here?"

Coach nods. "Right, right." He raises his voice, yelling, "You heard the man! Nothing to see here! Probably just some homeless kid."

My eyes narrow, and I turn to face him. "Coach."

"Yeah?"

I point towards the body. "He was a senior."

Coach's eyes widen in shock. "Oh." He sighs, and then looks back up at me, "He wasn't on the team, was he?"

A moment later, another scream rings out, and a blonde girl pushes past Coach, crying, "Kyle! Oh, god, Kyle! Oh, god!"

Sheriff Stilinski ushers Stiles and the others away. "Go on," he says. "Go!"

As we start walking away, I glance around the area. I see the twins standing close together, staring at the body with troubled expressions on their faces.

Then I see someone else, and my eyes widen in surprise.

Matt, now wearing the uniform of the cross-country team, is standing a few yards away from the twins, gazing casually at the body. While everyone else, even the twins, seems troubled or horrified, Matt is watching the scene as casually as if he was watching a football game on television. His glance flicks over to me, now containing a hint of amusement. He grins, raising a hand, and waves.

A growl rumbles in my throat, and my eyes narrow.

Matt grins and turns away, strolling off down the hill along with the other kids. I'm left glaring after him, clenching my fists.

_Okay, seriously, what the_ hell _is going on?_

"Did you see the way the twins looked at him?" Isaac says, snapping me back to attention.

"Yeah, you mean like they had no idea what happened?" Stiles replies.

Isaac shakes his head. "No, no, they knew."

"The kid was strangled with a garrote, all right?" Stiles argues. "Am I the only one recognizing the lack of werewolfitude in these murders?"

"Oh, you think it's a coincidence that they turn up and then people start dying?" Isaac counters.

"Well, no," Stiles admits, "but I still don't think it's them." He turns to face me. "Scott?"

Isaac comes up on my other side. "How about you?" he asks.

I groan inwardly. _Oh, great._ "I don't know yet," I say after a moment of deliberation.

"You don't know yet?" Stiles asks incredulously.

I turn to face him. "Well, he's got a point." I indicate Isaac. "I mean, seriously, dude… human sacrifices?"

Stiles glares at me. "Scott, your eyes turn into yellow glow sticks, okay? Hair literally grows from your cheeks and then will immediately disappear, and if I were to stab you right now, it would just magically heal. But you're telling me that you're having trouble grasping human sacrifices?"

After a moment, I sigh. "That's a good point, too."

Isaac shakes his head. "I don't care. They killed that kid; they killed the girl who saved me." His eyes narrow. "And I'm gonna kill them too."

* * *

_**Matt** _

I feel fantastic; I'm riding another high from the latest sacrifice. The burst of increased power, strength, speed, reflexes; everything is heightened. And I'm enjoying it. Jennifer wasn't wrong when she said that this kind of power can be addicting if you can't control it.

I'm currently sitting in Mr. Harris's biology class; after we found the body on the cross-country trail, Coach ended practice early. Scott and Isaac are sitting a few seats away, and I'm straining my ears to pick up what they're saying.

"They're here for a reason," Scott whispers. "Give me a chance to figure it out before you do anything. Okay? Isaac?"

"All right," Harris says, forcing me to refocus on him. "Since inertia is a subject of which you all know plenty, why don't we start with momentum?" He glances around the room. "Danny… what do we know about momentum?"

"It's the product of mass and velocity," Danny replies. "The more massive something is, the faster it's going."

Abruptly, Isaac raises his hand. "Mr. Harris, can I use the bathroom, please?"

Harris nods and motions towards the door; Isaac stands and stalks out of the room. Scott looks anxiously after him, and then stands up. "I, uh… I have to go to the bathroom too," he says.

"One at a time," Harris replies automatically.

"But I… I really have to go," Scott argues. "Like 'medical emergency' have to go."

Harris's eyes narrow. "Mr. McCall, if your bladder suddenly exploded and urine began to pour from every orifice on your body, I would still respond, 'One at a time'. Is that enough hyperbole for you, or would you like me to come up with something more vivid?"

Scott stares at him for a moment. "No, no, that's… pretty good." He sighs and sits down.

A moment later, a series of loud bangs echoes down the hallway outside. Harris frowns and walks over to the door. "What the hell…" He walks out into the hallway and, a moment later, exclaims, "What is this?"

Everyone in the classroom collectively stands up and rushes into the hallway to see what's going on. My eyes widen in surprise as I round the corner.

Isaac is standing in the middle of the hallway. And, sprawled on the ground in front of him, his face covered in blood and bruises, is one of the twins.

"What's going on?" Harris demands.

Danny hurries forward, dropping to his knees alongside the injured twin and grasping his shoulder to support him. "Are you okay?" he asks.

"He just… he just came at me," the twin says, coughing and spitting blood.

"Isaac, what the hell did you do?" Harris asks, shocked.

Isaac turns, staring at the mass of students with a horrified expression on his face.

It doesn't take much effort for me to figure it out, especially after I see the other twin at the far end of the hallway. Clearly, they set this up to get Isaac in trouble, and they've definitely succeeded in doing that.

I smirk faintly. _Not bad._

* * *

_**Derek Hale** _

The agony of having a metal pipe stabbed through my abdomen hasn't faded in the slightest since the initial wound; in fact, it actually feels like it might be getting worse. Blood trickles down the pipe as my body tries to heal itself, but can't.

"Sorry about this, Derek," Deucalion says conversationally from where he's sitting in front of me on the couch in my loft, his scarred eyes concealed behind a pair of dark sunglasses. "I asked Kali to be gentle, but…" He shrugs.

"This _is_ me being gentle," Kali – the psychotic bitch who impaled me on the pipe – replies, still gripping the pipe to hold me in place.

Cora, my sister, growls in pain as she tries to free herself from Ennis's headlock, to no avail.

"Let… let her go," I gasp.

After a moment of deliberation, Deucalion nods to Ennis, who steps back, releasing his grip on Cora. She immediately hurries towards me, until I lift a hand, palm-outward, signaling her to stay back.

"No," I wheeze. If she tries to free me, they'll kill her. And I can't let that happen.

Reluctantly, Cora backs away, standing against the wall on the far side of the loft from Ennis.

"See?" Deucalion says with a smile. "We're not unreasonable."

"What do you want?" I growl. "You want… to kill me?"

"Do you really think I'm that boring?" Deucalion asks, chuckling. "Don't throw me in with sociopaths like your uncle. I'm a man with far more vision than simple murder. In fact…" He twirls his folded-up cane between his hands. "I'm her to show you just how much vision a blind man can have."

* * *

_**Scott** _

"Don't let it bother you," I say to Isaac as he goes through his locker. "It's just lunchtime detention. If all they want right now is to piss you off, then don't give in. They're just trying to get to you."

"It's not just me," Isaac replies as he turns to face me. He indicates something behind me with a tilt of his head.

I turn around, just in time to see one of the twins leaning against the wall on the other side of the hallway, chatting with Lydia.

"What about tonight?" he asks.

"Nope," Lydia says casually. "Studying."

"I could help you," the twin offers.

She raises an eyebrow. "Do you have an IQ higher than 170?"

The twin blinks. "Okay, you could help me."

Lydia scoffs, shaking her head.

The twin grins, undaunted. "So, tonight, then?"

My eyes narrow, and a growl rumbles in my throat. My hands clench into fists.

"Now they're getting to you," Isaac says.

* * *

_**Derek** _

I cough, and for a moment it feels as if the pipe is about to rip me in half. A bolt of searing pain rushes through me, and more blood drips from my mouth.

"You're killing him!" Cora cries.

"Not yet, little sister," Kali replies, and I know she's grinning even though I can't see her face. "But I could." She shifts the pipe slightly, and I cough in pain, spitting blood. "Who knows if it's five hours or five minutes before it's too late to take this thing out?" She turns to face Deucalion. "But, just to be on the safe side, Duke, you might want to get to the point."

"Now you see the one problem with being in an Alpha pack," Deucalion muses, addressing me, not Kali. "Everybody wants to make the decisions." He smiles. "Me? I'm more about discovering new talents. Like you."

I turn my head, glaring at him. "Not interested."

"But you haven't even heard my pitch," Deucalion protests.

"You want me to… kill my own pack?" I ask, a gurgling quality to my voice as more blood leaks from the corners of my mouth.

"No," Deucalion replies in a mock-reassuring tone. "I want you to kill one of them. Do that, and I won't have to ask you to kill the others; you'll do it on your own." He gestures around the loft with a sweep of his arm. "I did it. Ennis did; Kali did." He turns to Kali. "Tell him what it's like, Kali, to kill one of your own."

"Hmm…" Kali considers that for a moment. "Liberating," she finishes with a dark chuckle.

"Listen to me, Derek," Deucalion says. "Do you really want to stay beholden to a couple of maladjusted teenagers, bound to become a liability? And believe me, they will become a liability. In fact…" He smiles. "I have a feeling that one of them is getting himself into trouble… right now."

* * *

_**Isaac Lahey** _

Just my luck. Not only did I end up in detention, I got paired with the one person I really didn't want to work with. Allison; AKA the girl who tried to kill me a couple of months ago, and almost succeeded. And, just to make matters even worse, we've been assigned to restock the janitor's closet.

Considering my issues with claustrophobia, that's more of a problem for me than it would be for other people.

"Are you okay?" Allison asks as we place items on the shelves.

I swallow and nod. "Yeah, yeah, I'm just… not a big fan of small spaces." I wipe away several droplets of sweat on my forehead.

We continue working in silence for a moment, and then she speaks up again. "Can I ask you a question?"

I sigh. "Do you have to?"

"I guess not." She pauses. "I'm gonna ask anyway. Did you tell anyone that I was at school the other night?"

I consider for a moment, and then shrug. "Was I supposed to?"

"It would make me really happy if you didn't."

"Yeah, well… you being happy really isn't a big priority of mine," I comment dryly. "Since you stabbed me… twenty times. With knives."

"Well, they were actually Chinese ring daggers, but… oh." Allison's reply trails off. "Sorry."

I smile faintly, amused despite myself. "Was that… was that an apology?"

Allison glances over at me. "Would you accept an apology?"

Chuckling, I think that over for a minute. "Uh…"

That's when the closet door slams shut, casting us into darkness.

_Oh, crap._ Whirling, I rush to the door and push against it, but it doesn't budge.

"Maybe it locked from the outside," Allison offers, joining me beside the door.

I shove again, this time putting my full strength into it. Normally, that would be enough to smash even a locked door off its hinges.

The wood creaks, but it holds.

"No," I snap. "There's something against it."

I start slamming my hands against the door, shoving again and again, trying with increasing desperation to get out. Flashbacks begin to materialize in my mind; memories of being locked in a freezer in my father's basement, screaming and bashing my hands and feet against the inside, terrified, wanting only to escape.

"Okay, okay, okay," Allison mutters. "Okay, all right, just relax."

"No," I growl, shoving harder.

"Isaac, relax," she says urgently.

I start hammering my fists against the door, putting all of my strength into it. I see red and continue shoving, growling as I try to shake off the flashbacks.

"Come on, come on," I gasp.

"Isaac!" Allison calls.

"Come on!"

"Isaac. Isaac! Isaac, just relax! _Isaac!_ "

" _Come on!_ " I scream.

And then something shifts. My instincts take over, and everything goes into hyperdrive. I can tell that I'm shifting, my eyes glowing, my fangs and claws extending, and I can't stop it.

My senses lock onto something, close, alive, and I spin, ready to attack, ready to defend myself.

"No!" a voice shouts, but that's irrelevant now. I snarl and step forward, raising a clawed hand to strike.

"Don't," the voice pleads, but I ignore it. I lunge, grabbing the figure's arms and holding it in a vice grip, snarling into its face.

"Don't!" the voice screams. "Isaac! Isaac!"

And then the door behind me is ripped open, and a roar fills the air as a hand seizes my shoulder and yanks me backwards into the hallway, throwing me to the ground. I snarl, about to jump up and attack.

" _Isaac!_ " a new voice roars, the sound deafening. I recoil, pressing myself against the wall. The red fades from my vision; colors and sounds return to normal.

Scott is standing over me, his eyes blazing yellow. "Allison?" he says, turning to face Allison – who, I now realize, is bleeding from a series of small cuts on her forearms, where my claws were holding her.

"I'm okay," she replies. "I'm fine."

I gasp in horror, sitting up and staring at the cuts on her arms. "I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't… I didn't mean to do that."

"I'm okay," she insists.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper.

Allison turns to Scott. "It's not his fault."

Scott nods. "I know." He turns to me with a sympathetic expression on his face. "I guess now we know; they want to do more than get you angry." His sympathy turns to worry. "They want to get someone hurt."

I weakly get to my feet. "So are we gonna do something?"

"Yeah." Scott nods, his eyes hard. "I'm going to get them angry. Really angry."

* * *

_**Matt** _

By the time I get to Jennifer's class, the high from the most recent sacrifice has faced. I smile, glancing around as I enter the room, and sit down at my usual desk.

Just after I sit down, the door opens again, and I turn around just in time to see Lacey enter the room. I smile, remembering our date a couple of days ago. As soon as she sees me, she returns my smile, walks over, and sits down at her desk next to me.

"Hey," I say with a smirk.

"Hey, yourself," she replies, chuckling. "How are you?"

"Doing well, thanks," I answer nonchalantly, leaning back in my chair and stretching. "You?"

"Same," Lacey says with a smile.

Before either of us can say anything else, Jennifer speaks up from the front of the room. "Okay, everyone," she calls. "I know this is the last class of the day; to be honest, I want to get out of here too."

As Jennifer continues talking, I'm distracted by a clank of metal, coming from behind me. I turn around, just in time to see Scott remove a large piece of machinery from his backpack and set it down on his desk. He smiles in a friendly way, looking over at the twins, who are seated across from him. "Looks kind of important," he says.

The twins refocus on him, their eyes narrowing in realization and anger.

Ignoring them, Scott removes a second piece and sets it down. "I have absolutely no idea what that thing does," he admits.

A moment later, the sound of a motorcycle engine revving echoes through the room, coming from the hall.

One of the twins, looking absolutely livid, jumps to his feet and bolts out the door, ignoring his brother's cry of "Wait, Aiden, don't!" Jennifer stares after him in disbelief for a moment, before rushing after him. Scott and the other twin are right behind her, followed by the rest of the students.

The whole group spills out into the hallway and round the corner to see the twin – Aiden, I'm assuming – standing next to a large, expensive-looking motorcycle and holding a helmet. He looks up, startled, as he sees the entire class standing in front of him.

"You have got to be kidding me," Jennifer says, walking forward. "You realize this is going to result in a suspension."

Both twins turn, glaring murderously at Scott, who is now standing next to Isaac. They reply with smirks.

I grin. _Okay, I will admit. Nice one, McCall. Very nice._

* * *

_**Derek** _

"See," Deucalion continues as he paces around the loft, "the reason I'm always invested in new talent is simple. We all know that a pack is strongest due to its individual parts; the stronger the individual parts, the greater the whole." He pauses, turning to face me. "When I lost my sight," he explains, "one of my Betas assumed that I wasn't fit for my role anymore. He tried to take it from me. Killing him taught me something about Alphas that I didn't know they could do. His power was added to mine; I became stronger, faster, more powerful than I'd ever been. I tested this new ability to subsume the power of your own by killing another one. In fact, Derek… I killed them all. I took the individual parts and became a greater individual whole."

Walking over to me, Deucalion lowers himself to one knee, setting down his cane, and runs his hands over my face, feeling the outlines of my facial features. I flinch, but the pipe through my gut keeps me from moving.

"You're right, Kali," Deucalion says, standing up and walking over to the table in front of the huge window. "He looks like his mother." He smiles. "You'll get to know me, Derek. Like she did."

"I know you," I growl. "I know what you are. You're a fanatic."

Deucalion chuckles, setting his cane down on the table. "Know me? You've never seen anything like me." He turns, walking towards us as thunder crashes outside. "I am the Alpha of Alphas. I am the apex of apex predators!" More thunder booms, and lightning flashes outside the window. "I am death, destroyer of worlds!" He whirls to face us, his eyes blazing red behind his sunglasses, and roars, " _I am the Demon Wolf!_ " This last roar is so loud that the lenses of his glasses shatter.

As the lightning flashes again, Kali yanks the pipe free of my stomach, with an agonizing rip. I fall sideways, more blood leaking out onto the concrete, as the wound starts to heal. Cora rushes to my side, supporting me.

Removing his sunglasses, Deucalion runs a finger over the broken lenses. "Hate it when that happens," he comments, his voice normal again.

Tossing the pipe aside, Kali offers Deucalion her arm; he takes it, and she escorts him out of the loft. Ennis follows them, and the metal door slams shut behind them.

* * *

_**Scott** _

"They looked seriously pissed," Isaac chuckles as we walk along the hallway towards the exit from the school building.

"Yeah," I agree, as we round the corner… to see the twins standing in the middle of the hallway, right in front of the doors. Glaring at us.

"Kind of like that," I add.

As we watch, the twins start forward, growling. For some reason, they strip off their shirts, tossing them aside. They shift, their eyes glowing red and their fangs and claws extending.

And then Ethan drops to one knee, a moment before Aiden plunges his right hand into his back. Instead of injuring him, the hand sinks wrist-deep through Ethan's skin, merging with him.

That's when the twins begin to push closer together. With a sickening crunching and snapping, their bodies merge together, into a single, massive figure, at least seven feet tall.

My eyes widen in shock. We can't fight _this!_

"We can take them," Isaac says, his eyes flashing yellow.

I gawk at him. "Are you kidding?"

The giant Alpha roars, the sound deafening.

"Isaac!" I yell, grabbing him by the arm.

Isaac nods, and we turn and run. Unfortunately, we only make it about halfway down the hall before the fused Alpha catches up, grabbing us by the backs of our necks and hoisting us into the air. It smashes us together, then flings us to the floor.

As the giant Alpha starts towards us, it suddenly freezes, turning its head towards the end of the hallway. Isaac and I turn to look, and my eyes widen in horror.

Strolling down the hallway is a man wearing sunglasses and carrying a cane. I recognize him; it's the blind man I helped in the hospital a few days ago. But I can immediately tell who he is.

This is the leader Derek told me about. Deucalion.

Walking past us, the blind Alpha stops in front of the merged twins. As he stares at the double-Alpha, it separates, splitting back into Ethan and Aiden. They stand motionless, lowering their heads in submission.

Deucalion nods, removing the tip of his cane to reveal a razor-sharp blade, shaped something like an arrowhead. With a single flick of his arm, he slices the blade across the twins' faces, leaving each of them with a long cut on their left cheeks.

And then Deucalion turns and walks away, back past us and towards the exit. The twins follow him obediently.

"Who the hell is that?" Isaac mutters.

I gulp. "Deucalion."

* * *

_**Stiles** _

Well, overall today hasn't gone well. On the bright side, we figured out that whoever this serial killer is, they're not just going after virgins; now they've switched to abducting warriors. Not only is that guy we found this morning dead, but Lydia's music teacher has also vanished… and now Mr. Harris is missing too. I'm currently searching Harris's classroom, along with Lydia and Dr. Deaton.

"This is just one of many possibilities," Deaton says. "He could simply have left for the day."

I shake my head, holding up what I've just found in a drawer; Harris's car keys. "Not without these." I look back at the desk, where Harris has left a stack of graded tests, and notice something unusual. Frowning, I lean down over the desk.

"What?" Deaton inquires.

I hold up one of the tests for him to see. "This test is graded 'R'."

"This one's an 'H'," Lydia adds, leafing through the tests and picking up another.

Deaton takes both tests from us and sets them down on the desk, arranging the stack of tests. He stares fixedly at the tests. "Stiles," he says, "you remember I told you 'druid' is the Gaelic word for 'wise oak'?"

"Yeah."

Deaton places a hand on the desk. "If a druid went down the wrong path, the 'wise oak' was sometimes said to have become a 'dark oak'. There's a Gaelic word for that as well." He gestures to the desk, indicating the tests.

Lydia and I step forward, looking at them. Deaton's arranged them in the order they were originally placed in the stack, but overlapping rather than on top of each other, so we can see the grades on them. Each test has one large red letter in the upper right corner.

In order, the sequence of letters reads: D, A, R, A, C, H.

" _Darach,_ " Deaton finishes, his tone grim.

* * *

_**Matt** _

I'm leaning casually against the wall, around the corner from Harris's classroom. That's far enough away that Stiles, Lydia and their friend can't tell I'm here, but close enough that I can listen in. My eyes are closed in concentration.

At the word _Darach_ , I freeze. My eyes snap open, widening in surprise and alarm.

"So," I murmur. "They know."

My lips curve in a smirk, and my eyes flash white.

I turn, strolling down the hallway towards the exit from the school. I've learned everything I need to know for today. Even if they know that a Darach is committing these sacrifices, there's no way they'll figure out it's Jennifer, and they all think I'm dead.

Grinning, I walk out of the school and head for where I'd parked my car in the parking lot, just as another rumble of thunder rolls in. It's going to be raining soon, and I need to get back to the apartment.

Taking a glance back at the school, I smile. The storm brewing overhead seems oddly appropriate.

Chuckling, I hop into my car, step on the gas and drive out of the lot, heading back towards Jennifer's apartment.

McCall's friends know what we are now. They know that there is a Darach in Beacon Hills.

"You think you can stop us, Stiles?" I murmur under my breath.

I smile, looking up at the darkening sky.

"Game on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, the gang deals with the aftermath of a vicious battle with the Alphas, and Matt finds himself in the crosshairs of a certain werewolf hunter.


	10. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During a school road trip, Matt and the pack have to deal with the aftermath of a vicious battle against the Alphas.

_**Matt** _

I limp across the school parking lot, heading for the cross-country team's bus. A crowd of students are already gathering around it, waiting to get on.

The pain feels like it's coming from everywhere at once; my body is not happy with me for getting out of bed this morning. It's worst in my legs and chest; my right ankle has already healed, but the bone of my left leg is still mending, and, as a result, it still hurts.

The other cuts and bruises across my body are mostly healed, but the pain in my chest is still very noticeable. At least four of my ribs were broken, and one of them pierced my left lung; even with supernatural healing abilities, it's taking me a while to recover from that. My lung has healed fully – which is good, as I'm no longer coughing up blood every time I breathe too deeply – but the ribs are still knitting themselves back together.

The other wound in my chest, a deep puncture where an arrow buried itself in my flesh, is also taking a while to heal.

Jennifer assured me that I should be fully healed by tomorrow morning at the latest. As a result, I would much rather be at home asleep right now, but I can't miss this cross-country meet, so I had to come to school anyway.

As I approach the bus, I'm surprised to see a familiar head of curly blonde hair among the students waiting to get on.

"Lacey?" I call in surprise.

The girl turns, confirming my suspicion; it _is_ Lacey. She's wearing a red jacket, with a white shirt underneath, blue jeans, and black boots. Oddly, she's also wearing a camera on a strap around her neck.

When her eyes fall on me, she smiles in delight and hurries over. "Michael! It's good to see you!"

"You, too," I reply, hugging her gingerly and trying to conceal a grunt of pain as she squeezes my torso a bit too hard, jolting my injured ribs. "What're you doing here? You're not on the cross-country team."

"No, I'm not," Lacey admits with a chuckle, "but I am on the yearbook committee, and they assigned me to take pictures of the cross-country team." She holds up the camera around her neck. "So, I'm going to the meet with you guys."

I grin. "Sounds great! I was worried I wouldn't have anyone to sit with on the bus!"

Lacey returns my smile, her blue eyes lighting up. "Sounds good to me."

We clamber into the bus; I stifle another groan of pain, and follow Lacey back down the aisle to a seat near the back.

"Here, you can take the window seat," I offer, indicating the seat with a wave of my hand.

Lacey smiles. "Well, thanks." She slides across into the seat, and I sit down next to her.

With a sigh, I let myself relax, leaning back on the cool leather and taking a slow, deep breath. I'm careful to keep my second skin up; it would be a very bad idea to let it slip while I'm on a crowded bus filled with other students.

Other kids get on the bus over the next few minutes; Isaac and Boyd enter together, both of them looking somewhat shell-shocked, and sit in one of the front seats. A couple of minutes later, one of the Alpha twins climbs in, accompanied by Danny, and sits a couple of rows behind them, on the other side of the bus. Finally, Scott and Stiles make their way onto the bus and take seats in the very back row, just behind and across from me.

I sigh inwardly. _Great._

Coach enters last, checking to make sure everyone is present; then he nods to the bus driver and sits down in the front row as we pull out of the parking lot.

* * *

Several hours pass, and I find myself slumping, exhausted, next to Lacey. Thanks to what Jennifer taught me, I was able to maintain my second skin even while sleeping, keeping the illusion up unconsciously, so I can spend most of the drive napping, letting myself heal.

I wake up just in time to hear Stiles saying, "Scotty? Hey, Scotty? You still with me?" He punctuates each sentence by snapping his fingers.

"Huh?" Scott mutters. "Yeah, sorry. What's the word?"

"Anachronism," Stiles reads from the iPad he's holding.

"Something out of its normal time," Scott replies.

I groan. _Oh, dear god, not this again._

Stiles has been spending a considerable amount of time during the last few hours going over various PSAT vocabulary words. By this point, he's really starting to piss me off.

"Nice," Stiles acknowledges. "Okay, next word; incongruous."

Scott frowns. "Uh… can you use it in a sentence?"

"Yes; yes, I can. It's completely incongruous right now that we're sitting on a bus to a stupid cross-country meet after what just happened. Incongruous."

"Ah… out of place, ridiculous, absurd."

Stiles gives Scott a thumbs-up. "Perfect. Um, next word… Darach."

My eyes widen in alarm. _Wait, what?_

"Darach," Stiles repeats. "It's a noun…" He pauses, looking at Scott. His expression becomes irritated. "Look, we're going to have to talk about it sometime, and we're gonna be on this thing for, like, five hours, so why not?"

Scott looks away, staring blankly out the window.

"Okay, fine," Stiles sighs in exasperation. "Next word; intransigent."

"Stubborn, obstinate…" Scott starts, but is interrupted as the bus goes over a bump, jostling all of us. I suppress another groan of pain as the jolt puts pressure on my injured ribs; I notice that Scott does the same thing.

"Are you okay?" Stiles asks. Scott doesn't reply, and his concern turns to irritation. "We shouldn't have come; I knew it, we shouldn't have come."

"We had to," Scott says. "There's safety in numbers."

"Yeah, well, there's also death in numbers, okay? It's called a massacre." Stiles frowns, reading more words from his iPad's screen. "Bloodbath… carnage… slaughter… butchery, wow." He's snapped out of his reading when Scott groans again, and appears to come to a decision. "Okay, Scott, I'm telling Coach."

"No, I'm all right," Scott protests.

"Well, you don't _look_ all right," Stiles counters. "Just let me see it." He leans forward, but Scott blocks him.

"I'm okay," Scott insists.

"Just let me see it, okay?"

After a pause, Scott reluctantly nods. "Okay," he says, pulling up his shirt. I can't see what they're looking at, but Stiles reacts with dismay, his eyes widening.

"I know it looks bad," Scott says before Stiles can say anything, "but that's because it's from an Alpha; it'll take longer to heal."

"Then how come Boyd and Isaac are fine?" Stiles asks, indicating where the other two Betas are seated.

Scott doesn't reply; instead, he looks back out the window. "I can't believe he's dead," he mutters brokenly. "I can't believe Derek's dead."

* * *

_I'm sitting on the couch in Jennifer's loft, reading a book and contemplating recent events. I've already informed Jennifer that Stiles and the others are onto us, and she's altered our plans accordingly, speeding up the timetable for the sacrifices._

" _How's it going?" I inquire as Jennifer enters the room, typing something on her phone._

" _Very well, thanks," she replies, smiling. "I've got a few candidates in mind for the next knot."_

_I blink, thinking back over what she told me. "Next knot's healers, right?"_

" _Yeah," Jennifer replies. "I should be able to handle that, though; right now, I need you to do something else." She pauses. "Scott and Derek are planning something, something involving the Alphas. I need you there to make sure things go according to plan."_

_I raise an eyebrow. "And how am I supposed to do that? They're werewolves; the second skin doesn't work on them. And if they recognize me, our entire plan is screwed."_

_Jennifer sighs. "Relax. Your second skin may not work on werewolves, but the cloaking illusion I taught you should work." She turns, pacing around the room. "Derek's pack are meeting the Alphas in an abandoned mall near the Argents' apartment; I need you there."_

" _What exactly am I supposed to do when I get there?" I inquire. "Two packs of werewolves kicking the crap out of each other, and you want me to basically just sit in the shadows with a bag of popcorn and watch? How does that accomplish anything?"_

" _You're my insurance," Jennifer explains. "I need someone there to make sure that things happen according to plan."_

" _And what_ is _the plan?"_

" _The plan is to make sure that Derek survives," she replies. "I need him injured, but alive."_

_That doesn't make any sense at first. "And why is he so important?"_

" _Because, if we're going to take on the Alphas, we'll need all the help we can get. Scott would never help us, not after what we're doing. But if I can get Derek to trust me…" Jennifer trails off, the implication clear._

_I smirk, not really buying her excuse. "And you're sure you don't just have a little crush on him?"_

_Jennifer glares at me. "Of course not," she snaps. "But he's developing feelings for me; I can tell. And we can use that. If I can persuade him to trust me, he'll help us take down the Alphas. With his help, there's no way we can lose."_

" _And, of course, you're forgetting the most important part," I reply sardonically. "You get to sleep with him."_

" _Oh, shut up." With that, Jennifer turns and sweeps out of the room._

_I chuckle._ Yeah, she's totally into him _._

* * *

I spend the next hour or so sleeping, trying to let my body heal itself. The pain of my injuries is starting to ebb, but it's still present whenever I breathe too deeply.

I wake up again, to the by-now familiar sound of Coach yelling, "Now, the rest of you; don't think we're gonna miss this meet because of a minor traffic jam, a slight tornado warning… Jared." He indicates a sickly-looking student on the last part. "We're gonna make this thing; nothing is gonna stop us!"

"Is he always this loud?" Lacey whispers in my ear.

"Yeah, pretty much," I whisper back.

Then Coach groans. "Stilinski, put your hand down!"

"You know, there's a food exit about a half a mile up," Stiles calls. "I don't know, if we stop and then maybe traffic…"

Coach shakes his head immediately. "We're not gonna stop."

"Okay, but if we stop–"

"Stilinski!" Coach snaps, and then blows into his whistle. " _Shut it!_ Seriously, it's a little bus! Stop asking me questions!"

Stiles groans, slumping back into his seat. "I hate him," he mutters under his breath. After thinking for a moment, he turns to Scott. "Did you call Deaton?"

"I keep getting his voicemail," Scott replies.

"Okay, that's it," Stiles decides, fishing his cell phone out of his pocket. "I'm calling Lydia and Allison."

Scott looks over at him and frowns. "How are they gonna help? They're back in Beacon Hills."

"They're not; they've been following us for hours." Stiles dials the phone, muttering, "Pathetic."

* * *

After a quick conversation with Lydia and Allison – which I can hear every word of, thanks to my new hearing – Stiles gets up and begins attempting to convince Coach to pull over.

This, as I suspected, does not go well.

"Coach, it's five minutes for a bathroom break, okay? We've been on this thing for like three hours–"

_Wheet._ Coach blows his whistle, cutting Stiles off. He scowls, pauses, and tries again. "It's sixty miles to the next rest stop–"

_Wheet._

"Being cooped up for hours is not good–"

_Wheet._

"You know, our bladders aren't exactly–"

_Wheet._

"Coach–"

_Wheet._

"This is–"

_Wheet._

"Can you just–"

_Wheet. Wheet._

" _Please–_ "

_Wheet. Wheet. Wheet._

Stiles stares at him for a moment in disbelief. " _Let me talk!_ "

_Wheet._ Coach laughs.

"Every time–"

_WHEEEEET._ This time, Coach continues blowing into the whistle for about five seconds. He finishes by hollering, " _Get back to your seat, Stilinski!_ "

" _Okay!_ " Stiles yells back.

I'm snickering; I would be laughing hysterically, but I don't want Coach to turn his anger on me; I'm having too much fun with this.

"And, Jared?" Coach says, looking over at the sick student again. "Keep your eyes on the horizon."

As Stiles turns to leave, I can practically see a little cartoon lightbulb blink on over his head. He glances after Coach as he returns to the front of the bus, and then quickly sits down next to the sick student, Jared.

My eyes narrow, and I wince; I'm pretty sure I know what he's about to do.

"Hey, Jared," Stiles says sympathetically; I can see his face from my seat, and he's smiling. "How're you doing?"

And then the creepiest smirk imaginable spreads across his face.

* * *

The students all pile off the bus, scattering across the grassy area outside the rest stop's buildings.

"Jared, you suck!" Coach yells, opening a window and poking his head, shoulders and right arm out as he sprays air freshener into the air around him. "Hey! Somebody grab some towels, or a mop!" He glances back into the bus. "Or a new bus!"

I scramble down the stairs and out of the bus; Lacey follows. As I walk across the grassy area, however, I put too much weight on my injured leg, and a shock of pain sears through the left side of my body. I cry out in pain, stumbling, and fall sideways to the ground.

"Michael!" Lacey exclaims, and a moment later she's crouched beside me, grasping my shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," I groan. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just… my leg hurts, that's all."

"Do you think you can get up?" Lacey asks.

I nod. "Yeah… yeah, I think so."

With Lacey supporting me, I'm able to get up and walk over to a picnic table, where I slump down on the bench, massaging my knee and calf to help with the pain. The healing process is slower with bones, according to Jennifer, and it's especially slow when I'm continually stressing the injured leg by walking on it. It _is_ healing, though, which is the important thing.

I glance over just in time to see Scott, Stiles, Allison and Lydia duck into the men's bathroom; Stiles and Allison are supporting Scott between them. I assume they're getting him away from prying eyes so that they can patch him up; I don't care enough to bother trying to eavesdrop.

"I'm fine, really," I assure Lacey. "Thanks for the help, though. I appreciate it.

Lacey smiles. "No problem." She puts an arm around my shoulders. "Here; you need to rest."

I lean against Lacey, resting my head on her shoulder, and take slow, deep breaths, trying to conserve my energy. I won't be any help to anyone unless I can heal.

* * *

_I jog into the abandoned mall, following the sound of Scott's motorcycle. My cloaking illusion conceals me, allowing me to blend with the shadows as I move silently through the cavernous space._

_As I run, the sound of the bike abruptly fades away, meaning that they've stopped. I come to a halt and look carefully around the next corner, just in time to see Scott and Isaac walking away from the bike, into a large, open area at the center of the mall. I follow, staying close to the wall and remaining in the shadows to conceal my presence. I'm not entirely sure that this cloaking illusion will work on them, so I'm not taking any chances._

_Scott and Isaac stop, facing an escalator going up to the next level of the mall. Standing on it is a man holding a cane, his eyes concealed behind sunglasses. Even without using my second sight, I can feel the aura of power radiating from him._

_I can already tell that this must be the leader Jennifer told me about. The most powerful and dangerous member of the Alpha pack._

_Deucalion._

" _You didn't come alone," he says matter-of-factly, addressing Scott. His voice is cultured, with a British accent._

" _Yeah," Scott admits, indicating his friend. "This is Isaac."_

_Deucalion shakes his head, the motion barely noticeable. "I'm not talking about Isaac."_

_Scott turns, and I follow his gaze… just as Derek steps out of the shadows. He's fully transformed; his eyes are glowing red, and his fangs and claws are extended. Two other shapes – the two werewolves I saw on the night of the full moon, by the looks of it – are standing behind him._

" _You knew I would do this," Scott realizes. "Derek, don't. You can't do this and no one gets hurt. If someone else dies–"_

" _Him," Derek interrupts, pointing a clawed finger at Deucalion. "Just him."_

" _Just me?" Deucalion repeats, sounding vaguely amused. "Now, how does a blind man find his way into a place like this, all on his own?" He smiles faintly._

Oh, that doesn't sound good _, I think._

_A moment later, a scraping sound echoes throughout the room, and I look over just in time to see a tan-skinned woman with long black hair and glowing red eyes sliding down one of the concrete pillars. She's barefoot; claws on both her fingers and toes are gripping the pillar, scraping against the concrete as she descends._

_This has to be the woman Jennifer mentioned; Kali, the one who nearly killed her._

_A moment later, a huge man appears at the top of the escalator leading down to the level below this one. His eyes are also glowing red. I can assume this must be Ennis._

_Finally, the twins appear, strolling up to the edge of the level overhead and smirking down at the group._

_I wince. Something tells me this is going to get very bad, very fast._

_For a long moment, there's a standoff. Both packs remain motionless, waiting for someone to make the first move._

_Then Derek charges, rushing towards the escalator where Deucalion is calmly waiting. Before he can get there, however, Kali leaps over the escalator and lands a solid blow across his face, knocking him backwards._

_The twins leap off the ledge; in midair, their bodies somehow merge together with a sickening crunch, forming a single massive figure that slams to the ground behind Scott and Isaac. The double-Alpha stomps one foot and roars at them._

_The two other Betas rush Ennis, slashing at him, while Derek and Kali clash in combat again. Isaac charges towards the merged twins, and Scott rushes after him, but the double-Alpha easily dodges their strikes, and knocks Isaac off his feet before grabbing Scott and hurling him into the wall. Concrete shatters, and he crumples to the floor._

_Ennis grabs the female Beta's arm and twists her body painfully around, snapping the bone. She screams in pain, and he throws her to the floor, before ducking under a slash from the other Beta and seizing him in a headlock._

_Kali shoves Derek away, knocking him off-balance, and then whirls, landing a spinning kick to the Beta that Ennis has pinned and slicing open his right shoulder with the claws on her foot. Ennis flings him away, sending him sprawling to the ground, and immediately pins him to the floor. Kali, meanwhile, places a foot on the female Beta's throat, immobilizing her as well. The double-Alpha tosses Scott and Isaac into the center of the room, and then lifts them up by the backs of their necks, holding them on their knees._

_For a moment, there's silence._

" _Kill him," Deucalion orders, indicating the Beta that Ennis is holding down. "The others can go."_

_Derek – the only one who isn't being restrained – stares in shock at the trapped Beta, then at Deucalion._

" _You're beaten," Deucalion says casually, slowly descending the escalator towards the others. "Do it, Derek. Take the first step."_

_I raise an eyebrow. They want him to kill his own pack? What exactly does that accomplish?_

_Derek hesitates, clearly having no idea what to do._

" _Are we serious with this kid?" Kali asks mockingly. "Look at him. He's an Alpha… to what? A couple of useless teenagers?"_

" _Some of them have more promise than others," Deucalion replies, glancing over at Scott._

_I frown; what's_ that _about?_

" _Let him rise to the occasion, then," Kali says with a cruel grin, showing her fangs. "What'll it be, Derek? Pack, or family?" She applies weight on the foot pinning the female Beta's neck, and I can hear a faint crunch. The girl chokes, grabbing desperately at the Alpha's foot, but is unable to dislodge her._

_Derek's eyes narrow, as he glances among the people in the room._

_That's when a whizzing sound echoes through the room. A small, dark object, which I recognize as an arrow, shoots across the room, striking the merged twins dead-on. Electricity crackles over the double-Alpha's skin, and it falls backwards, releasing Scott and Isaac and separating back into the twins._

_Before anyone can react, another arrow streaks down; it strikes the ground right next to Kali and Derek, and detonates with a blinding flash of light. Kali recoils, releasing the female Beta. I flinch backwards, narrowing my eyes against the glare._

_More arrows streak down, exploding on impact and filling the air with more blasts of light and sound._

" _Your eyes," Deucalion shouts, dropping to one knee on the escalator to brace himself and make himself a smaller target. "Cover your eyes!"_

_I look up and to the left, where the arrows came from. Standing atop the upper level, across from where the twins appeared, is a figure wearing all black, holding a bow. I can see the long, curly brown hair from here._

_I grin._ Allison. Of course.

_More arrows rain down. Explosions ring out everywhere. The Alphas have been caught completely off-guard; they flinch backwards, covering their eyes and looking for cover, and allowing Derek's pack to escape._

_Two combatants don't run, however. Scott jumps to his feet, his eyes glowing yellow, and finds himself facing Ennis, who's standing about twenty feet away._

_Ennis growls, baring his fangs. Scott snarls, and they charge, barreling towards each other._

_They collide in the center of the open area, with a thunderous impact. Both of them are sent skidding backwards by the force of the collision. Ennis is able to stay on his feet, but looks dazed, while Scott falls to one knee._

_But, when Scott lifts his head again, his eyes aren't yellow._

_They're_ red _, just as bright as Ennis's. The eyes of an Alpha._

_I stare at him for a moment, stunned._ What in the hell?!

_Scott shakes his head, closing his eyes; when he opens them, they're yellow again. Ennis growls, about to rush him again, but Derek slams into him from behind, sending him stumbling forwards. Derek charges, slashing at Ennis with clawed hands, but the taller Alpha dodges the swipes, before landing a blow to Derek's chest that spins him around. Derek immediately retaliates, lunging and landing a punch to Ennis's face that knocks him backwards._

_They clash again, snarling viciously, and lock arms, pushing against each other, and apparently unaware that they're getting dangerously close to the edge of the drop-off to the next level._

_Ennis lands a solid headbutt, stunning Derek, and shoves him backwards towards the edge._

_That does it; I have to do something, or Derek's going to die. And Jennifer was very specific in her instructions; he has to survive._

_I start forward, remaining hidden in the shadows, and raise one hand to grab Ennis telekinetically and try to yank him backwards. Before I can get close enough, though, Scott is already there; he lunges towards Ennis's unprotected back, stumbling and nearly falling, and lands a slash to the back of Ennis's right leg as he goes down._

_Ennis roars in pain; his leg buckles, and he loses his balance. Derek immediately seizes the advantage, spinning him around, and shoves him towards the edge._

_Unfortunately, Derek's forward momentum is too fast, and neither of them release their grip in time._

_And, in an instant, they both topple headlong over the edge, and are gone. Several seconds later, a resounding crash echoes up from the lower levels._

_Scott falls to his knees at the edge, one hand still outstretched uselessly, and stares down with an expression of horror on his face._

_I'm left staring at the edge, my mind reeling, immobilized by shock._

_I don't know why, but it's as if my legs are moving automatically; I need to see this for myself. I stagger forward, walking towards Scott and the edge._

_Walking out of the shadows, I approach the edge and look down, to see Derek and Ennis lying motionless on the escalator, two floors below. They're both crumpled on the metal, and neither of them show any signs of life._

Damn it! _I curse inwardly._ Now what the hell am I supposed to do?

_I look over at Scott, taking a step in his direction…_

_Only to see him looking straight back at me, his eyes wide in alarm._

_I freeze, rooted to the spot in dismay and shock._

_Oh, shit. He can see me._

_An instant later, a whizzing sound echoes through the air, and something slams into my chest._

* * *

_**Allison** _

_My eyes widen in horror as I see Derek and one of the Alphas fall over the edge; there's no way they could survive that fall._

_Scott falls to his knees, staring hopelessly down after them. I can't watch this; I turn away, looking around the room._

_And that's when I see it, emerging from the shadows just a few feet from where Scott is looking down._

_At first, it just looks like a ripple in the air; a shimmering movement, like a heat haze, but in the shape of a person._

_But then I can see it clearly, and I feel a sick rush of fear surge through me._

_It's the same thing I saw at the school a few days ago, when I helped capture Boyd and Cora. That bizarre, shapeshifting creature that I saw standing outside the school building for a brief moment._

_It looks different now – for one, instead of mimicking the blackness of night and the dark trees, it's now a mixture of black and gray, perfectly matching the stone wall behind it. If I hadn't known what it was, I might never have seen it._

_But, just like last time, the only part of its body that I can see clearly are two glowing white eyes._

_The creature walks forward, its outline shifting and flowing as it moves. That's when it clicks; whatever this thing is, this isn't what it really looks like. Instead, it's changing color to match the background, like a chameleon or an octopus._

_The creature – whatever the hell it is – walks to the edge and looks down. It remains still for a few seconds, staring down._

_And then, slowly, it turns towards Scott, who is looking at it now, and takes a step towards him._

_That's it. I react instinctively, pulling an arrow from my quiver. I notch it to my bow, pull back the string, center the arrow on the thing's torso, and release the string._

* * *

_**Scott** _

_As I stare down at the motionless bodies of Derek and Ennis on the escalator below, a soft sound causes me to turn around._

_My eyes widen in surprise, then in shock._

_Standing in front of me, about ten feet away, is a humanoid figure. It's about my height, and is the exact color of the stone wall behind it. I can only really tell it's there by seing the thing's outline, the strange rippling in the air around it, and its glowing white eyes._

_For a moment, the thing ignores me; it walks straight to the edge and looks down, as if it's examining the bodies. Then it straightens up, turning towards me, and takes a step in my direction, starting to raise a hand._

_At that exact moment, a whizzing sound echoes through the air, followed by a resounding_ thwack _._

_And an arrow buries itself in the creature's chest._

_The creature staggers back a step, staring down at the arrow now imbedded in its chest. It looks back up at me; I can't see its facial features, but I can tell that it's in shock._

_Then, to my amazement, the gray color around it begins to dissolve, melting away like smoke._

_I lurch backwards in shock, my eyes wide._

_Standing where the creature was moments earlier, his eyes wide in mute shock and still glowing white, is Matt. He's wearing black pants, black boots, a white T-shirt, and a black leather jacket. The arrow is still protruding from his chest, surrounded by a slowly spreading red stain._

_The white glow fades from Matt's eyes, and they return to their normal blue. He looks down at the arrow again, letting out a brief, pained gasp, and then lifts his gaze back up to me._

_And then his legs give way, and Matt topples backwards over the edge. A moment later, I hear the sound of another impact coming from down below._

_I'm left staring stupidly at the empty space where he was standing. Turning and looking up, I see Allison standing on the upper level, just before she turns and darts away, heading for the nearest exit._

_I look over the edge again, and see Matt lying crumpled on the concrete about twenty feet below me. His arms and legs are spread out at awkward angles, and he's covered in blood._

_Before I can see any more, Isaac calls my name. "Scott, we need to go, now!" he yells._

_Numbly, I turn and run after them, following Isaac, Boyd and Cora away from the scene of the battle._

* * *

_**Matt** _

_The pain is the first thing I feel. After what seems like an eternity, I'm finally able to rise above it, overcoming the agony that sears through every cell in my body._

_I open my eyes, to find myself staring up at the ledge where Scott was kneeling when I fell. He's gone; I can't hear anyone, anywhere around me._

_Slowly, I try to move. Even the slightest motion sends more pain crackling through me, but I tough it out. I'm able to lift my head a few inches before pain sears through my spine, and I let it fall back._

_I spend a few minutes trying to work out what's broken and what isn't. I can feel nothing but pain from my left leg, and I can't move it, so I'm assuming it's broken. My right leg feels better than that, but my ankle on that leg also feels like it's, at the very least, sprained. My right arm feels almost completely uninjured, but my left arm feels like it might be broken. The arrow is still sticking out of my chest, of course, although, fortunately, it doesn't feel like it hit anything vital. And a feeling of burning pain in my chest suggests that several of my ribs are broken._

_Still, all things considered, at least I'm alive._

_Weakly, I flex my right leg, enduring the pain in my broken ankle. To my relief, I can already feel the ankle healing; the pain is starting to ebb. The more serious injuries, obviously, will take more time to heal._

_As I try to sit up, agony flares in my chest. I cough, and blood splatters onto my shirt and the ground next to my head. More pain rips through my torso, and blood bubbles in my throat._

_I lie back, trying to focus through the pain. Judging by the coughing-up-blood thing, I'm pretty sure that at least one of my broken ribs has pierced a lung. I need to deal with that first, or I'll never be able to stand up without killing myself in the process._

_Slowly, I reach out telekinetically, trying my best to relax and remain focused. I've never tried anything like this before; actually reaching into my own body with my mind and setting a broken bone._

_I feel it within seconds; the broken rib, the sharp end stabbed into my left lung. Grasping the bone firmly in a mental hand, I count to three in my head, and then, with a muffled crunch and a scream of pain, shove it back into place._

_Immediately, I cough again, spitting out a mouthful of blood, and try to focus my healing ability on the punctured lung. It immediately goes to work, knitting tissue back together. Within a few minutes, it's done. I spit blood again, and cough weakly, finally relieved to be able to breathe clearly. I can still taste blood, of course, but that's irrelevant right now._

_With my lungs healed, I use telekinesis again to snap my left arm back into place; it turns out that it was dislocated at the shoulder joint, not broken, so that's a relief. Holding my left shoulder with my right hand while the damaged muscles repair themselves, I sit upright, to see that my left leg has been bent into a direction that it was never naturally intended to go. Trying not to throw up at the sickening sight, I take hold of my leg below and above the break, gripping it firmly, and twist, snapping the bone back into place._

_I scream again, falling backwards and gasping desperately for air, but it worked; the pain has started to fade, slowly. My body is mending itself._

_I can honestly say that I've never been more grateful for my supernatural abilities than I am right now._

_Slowly and painfully, I force myself to my feet. The escalator where Derek and Ennis fell is nearby, and I limp over to their bodies to examine them. If I survived that fall, than surely they could too._

_I don't bother checking Ennis; at this point, I don't care whether he lives or not. I'm only interested in Derek. Kneeling next to his motionless body, I check for a pulse at his throat, then his wrist. Nothing._

_Gingerly, I lean in and place an ear against Derek's chest, directly over his heart, and listen. After a few seconds, I finally hear it; a faint, soft pulse. His heart is beating; he's still alive._

_I grin weakly._ Well, you wanted him injured but alive, Jennifer. Mission accomplished.

_Propping myself up on the escalator railing, I stagger down the stairs, leaving the bodies behind. If I'd been at full strength, I could have carried Derek out of here, but in my current condition, I'll be lucky to get_ myself _out of here safely._

_I reach the bottom of the escalator, limping away, and head for the entrance where I came in._

_I need help, and Jennifer's the only one I can trust._

* * *

_It takes me over half an hour to reach the apartment, but when I knock on the door, Jennifer answers within seconds. As soon as she opens it, I groan, "A little help here?"_

_Jennifer's eyes widen in alarm. "Oh, my god!" she exclaims. "What happened to you?"_

" _Got shot in the chest with an arrow, then fell two stories onto solid concrete," I growl. "Now… can you help me out here?"_

_Jennifer nods, wrapping an arm around me under my arms and holding me up, as she helps me inside and closes the apartment door._

_Lifting me onto the table in the living room, Jennifer quickly strips off my jacket, then my torn and blood-soaked T-shirt. She gasps when she sees the arrow buried in my chest, as well as several other gashes, cuts, and bruises on my torso._

" _Hang on a second," she says, hurrying over to the kitchen and turning on the water. "You're going to be fine; our kind heal just as fast as werewolves."_

_I chuckle humorlessly. "Good… to know."_

_As the water runs, she looks over anxiously at me, a questioning expression on her face. "Derek?"_

" _He's alive," I answer shortly. "Badly injured, but alive."_

_She smiles with a relieved sigh. "Good."_

_Jennifer returns with a pot of hot water, several washcloths, a wooden spoon, and a large knife. "I need to cut that arrow out first," she says. "Then we can get started on resetting your broken bones."_

" _Fine," I mutter. "Just do it already."_

_Jennifer nods, washing off the knife with one of the washcloths. "I will warn you," she informs me, "this is going to hurt."_

" _Yeah, I figured. Do it."_

" _All right." Jennifer passes the spoon to me, instructs me to clench the wooden handle between my teeth, and places the tip of the knife directly above where the arrow is protruding from my chest. "Three… two… one…"_

_And then there's a hiss of hot metal slicing into flesh, and I'm too busy screaming to worry about anything else._

* * *

We're back on the bus now, heading onwards towards the cross-country meet. I'm sitting in the back, next to Lacey; Stiles and Lydia are seated across the aisle from us, and Scott and Allison are sitting behind them. Scott seems to be doing much better now; to be honest, so am I. All the sleep I've gotten today seems to be doing the trick; my injuries are healing at an increasingly rapid rate, and I should be fully recovered by the end of the day.

I lean against Lacey; she's asleep at the moment, her head resting on my shoulder. I'm using the time to listen in on the conversation happening across the aisle from me.

"All right, let's go over this one more time," Stiles says. "So it's the sacrifices, right? Everything has to do with them, and someone who thinks he's like a dark druid of some kind."

"Or actually _is_ a dark druid," Lydia points out.

"A Darach," Stiles finishes.

I smirk to myself, tremendously amused by the fact that they have no idea that there's a Darach within five feet of them.

After a moment, Lydia speaks up again. "You know," she says, "some ancient cultures sacrificed people… in preparation for battle."

My eyes widen slightly. She's good; that's exactly what we're doing, of course, but I'd never thought to put it that way.

Stiles frowns, thinking that over. "So, we've got Alpha werewolves against a dark druid."

Lydia nods. "Yeah."

My confident smirk widens. _Oh, trust me, Stiles; you have no idea._

And, although they can't see it, my eyes flash white for a split second.

This is very, very far from over.

* * *

_**Scott** _

"You know, if he's really dead, it's not your fault," Allison says.

I don't meet her eyes. "Maybe."

After a long moment, I turn my head, looking over at her. "Look, remember that thing we talked about? Where I wasn't accusing you of being there, and, if you were there, you shouldn't be?"

Allison nods.

I grin weakly. "Thanks for not listening."

She smiles, but then keeps looking at me for a long moment, with an odd expression on her face.

"What?" I ask.

Allison shrugs. "I was just looking at your eyes."

Smiling, I look around the bus; and, for the first time, my eyes fall on someone else.

I stare in total shock at the seat across from Stiles and Lydia, one row in front of me.

Sitting there, a faint smile on his face, is Matt. He's wearing a new outfit again; blue jeans, a red shirt, another black leather jacket, and the same black boots. He's sitting next to a girl with long, curly blonde hair, who appears to be sleeping and is resting her head on his shoulder.

The last time I saw him, he was lying broken and covered in blood at the bottom of that deadly drop in the abandoned mall. Now, he seems totally uninjured; I can't see any injuries, at least.

And then Matt turns, as if sensing that I'm looking at him, and catches my eye. He smirks, the expression mocking, and then turns back to face forwards.

I'm left staring at the back of his head, my mind whirling. I know now that I can't just be imagining him, because Allison was able to shoot him with an arrow. But if he's really still alive somehow, then how could he possibly have survived that?

What the hell _is_ he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, the gang stops off at a certain haunted motel for the night, and Matt seizes the opportunity to cause some trouble.


	11. One Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group spends the night at a haunted motel, Matt and Lacey grow closer, and Matt takes an opportunity to exact some payback.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music for this chapter, specifically the scene with Matt and Lacey in the motel room, is "Give Your Heart a Break", by Demi Lovato. So, if you want the full experience (like if this was actually part of the show), I would suggest listening to that song during that particular scene; I'll mark it with a (*) at the point where the music would start.

_**Matt** _

I walk down the steps of the bus, glancing around at the darkened motel parking lot.

"I've seen worse," Scott decides. He's standing a few feet away with his bag slung over his shoulder.

"Where have you seen worse?" Stiles inquires skeptically. He's cut off by the sound of Coach's whistle.

"Listen up!" Coach calls. "The meet's been pushed until tomorrow. This is the closest motel with the most vacancies and least amount of good judgment when it comes to accepting a bunch of degenerates like yourselves." He holds up a handful of room keys. "You'll be pairing up; choose wisely."

As the students pair off and start filing past Coach, each pair taking a key card from his hand, he adds, "And I'll have no sexual perversions perpetrated by you little deviants. Got that? Keep your dirty little hands to your dirty little selves!"

 _Great,_ I think sourly. I highly doubt that Lacey will be okay with sharing a room, so I'll have to find somebody else. And, apart from Scott, Stiles, Allison, Lydia, and Isaac, none of whom would be interested for obvious reasons, I don't know anyone else on this trip.

"So, who're you going to–" I glance over, expecting to see Lacey, but she isn't there.

I turn around, looking through the group of students still waiting, but I don't see her anywhere.

"Looking for me?" Lacey asks from directly behind me, tapping me on the shoulder. I jump, whipping around and almost falling.

Lacey grins, holding up a room card with the number 214 on it. "Come on; I already got the key."

I raise an eyebrow. "Hang on… you want to share a room with _me?_ "

"Well, yeah. Duh." Lacey rolls her eyes. "Did you forget? I don't know anyone else here."

"Oh, right. Well… okay, then." Inwardly, I groan. _Oh, god, that sounded so stupid._

"Come on; our room's upstairs." With that, Lacey turns and strolls off towards the hotel.

I follow, shaking my head and muttering under my breath. Honestly, part of my mind is wondering whether I'm still asleep on the bus.

* * *

_**Derek** _

Everything hurts; my entire field of vision has turned red, and the edges of my vision are blurred. I can barely make out the familiar metal door in front of us, as Jennifer manages to remove the lock and pull back the door.

"Oh, god," she whispers under her breath. "This is a bad, very bad idea. I should be taking you to a hospital."

"No," I cut her off. "No hospital." I can't go to a hospital, especially not now. First of all, that would make me a sitting target if the Alphas came after me again, and would put innocent people in danger. And second, if my injuries do start healing on their own – which I know they will, eventually – I can't afford to take the change that a human doctor might see it happening.

"Derek, I can't," Jennifer gasps, staggering as she helps me down the steps and into the loft. "I can't hold you anymore… I'm losing you…"

Then her grip gives out, she staggers sideways, and I fall.

The impact on the floor hurts a lot more than it should. I let out a strangled growl of pain as a searing bolt of agony lances through my entire body.

That's when exhaustion starts to set in. My eyelids flicker, and slowly close, shutting out the light and noise.

"Derek?" Jennifer's voice sounds much quieter now, although I can still hear it clearly. "Derek? _Derek!_ "

Hearing the growing panic in her voice snaps me out of my daze. I blink, opening my eyes, and look up at her.

Jennifer exhales loudly in relief, almost falling over. "Oh, thank god!" She reaches down, looping one hand around my upper back and helping me up. "Come on, you need to sit down and rest."

I nod wearily. "Right."

* * *

_**Scott** _

"All right, so I have four," Stiles says. We're lying flat on our backs, each of us on one of the two beds in our hotel room.

I blink in surprise, turning my head to glance over at him. "Four? You have four suspects?"

"Yeah, it was originally ten," he explains. "Well, nine technically, I guess. I had Derek on there twice."

"Okay, so who's number one? Harris?"

Stiles nods in confirmation. "Just because he's missing doesn't mean he's dead."

"So, if he's not dead, our chemistry teacher is out secretly committing human sacrifices."

He's silent for a moment. "Yeah, I guess that just sounded way better in my head."

An idea strikes me. "Well, what if it's somebody else from school? Like, you remember…" A chill runs through me, and I think I can almost hear Matt chuckling. I hastily clear my throat and continue, "You remember Matt? We didn't know that _he_ was killing people."

At this, Stiles lifts his head, sitting up and getting to his feet. "Excuse me?" he replies with an amused grin. "I'm sorry, what? I… yes, we did. I called that from day one, actually."

"Yeah, but we never really _seriously_ thought that it was Matt," I argue.

Stiles scoffs. "I _was_ serious. I was quite serious, actually. _Deadly_ serious. No one listened to me."

I sigh. "Who are the other three?"

"Derek's sister, Cora," Stiles lists. "No one knows anything about her, and she's Derek's sister. Next, your boss."

That one catches me totally by surprise; I sit up, looking over at him. "My boss?"

"Yeah, your boss. I don't really like the whole Obi-Wan thing he's got going on, you know? It freaks me out."

I stare at him, confused. When Stiles realizes that I have no idea what he's talking about, he groans loudly and claps a hand to his forehead. "Oh, my god, have you _still_ not seen Star Wars?"

"I swear, if we make it back alive, I will watch the movie," I promise.

"It just makes me crazy–"

"Who's the last one?" I interrupt.

After a pause, he sighs. "Lydia."

I frown questioningly, and he sits down on his bed. "She was totally controlled by Peter and had no idea, so…"

I really can't think of anything else to say to that, so we sit there quietly for a moment, and then simultaneously fall backwards onto the beds again, exhausted.

* * *

_**Matt** _

I'm getting more and more nervous about this situation. Lacey's currently in the bathroom, taking a shower, and I'm sitting on one of the beds, idly tapping out a rhythm on my knee with one hand.

 _Tap-tap, tap-tap. Tap-tap, tap-tap._ The steady beat helps me to focus. For some reason, focusing seems difficult at the moment. It's almost like I can smell something odd that keeps distracting me. It feels weird; there's a strange sensation all around me, hanging in the air like perfume.

I feel a rush of anger, and clench my hands into fists. As if in response, I feel a brief surge of power running up my spine.

And then, suddenly, it clicks. My eyes widen, a brief, involuntary flash of white flickering in them.

 _That's_ what's weird. What I can sense isn't a smell, or anything like that. It's energy, lots of it, permeating the space around me.

And, now that I'm paying attention to it, this feels like _my_ type of energy; it's dark and cold, like oil.

I crouch down on the floor, resting my hands palms-down on the carpet and letting the sensation wash over me. I can dimly hear a sound like a hundred whispering voices.

The voices steadily grow louder. Now that I'm focusing on them, they don't sound like whispers.

They sound like screams.

Suddenly, as if that realization has triggered them, the sounds instantly become much, much louder, a deafening chorus in my ears. The screaming is horrifying, worse than anything I've ever heard. A hundred voices simultaneously shrieking in pain, fear, and hatred, their combined noise overwhelming me.

My eyes snap open as a burst of agonizing pain sears through my mind. I recoil with a yell, slamming into the bed and crashing to the floor, and cry out in pain as the impact hits my still-healing ribs. Fortunately, the pain snaps me out of it, and the hellish chorus is gone, as quickly as it began.

"Michael?" Lacey calls anxiously from the bathroom, as the sound of running water cuts off. "Are you okay?"

"Uh… yeah, I'm fine," I reply, picking myself up and rubbing my side. I'm breathing heavily, and my entire body feels unnaturally hot. I touch my forehead and feel sweat coating my skin.

As I try to relax, the bathroom door opens and Lacey emerges. She's wearing a white tank top and red pajama pants, and her curly blonde hair is freshly brushed. She grins when she sees me. "Okay, shower's free. Your turn."

I look up, managing a smile. "Cool, thanks." Rummaging through the bag I brought with me, I find my pajamas – a black T-shirt and a pair of black-and-red-patterned pants. Holding them in one hand, I duck into the bathroom, closing and locking the door. I look into the bathroom mirror and drop my second skin. The façade melts away as I revert to my normal appearance.

The hot water in the shower is definitely helpful when it comes to relaxing. The stress that I've been feeling ever since my near-death experience finally melts away completely.

With a genuine smile on my face for the first time tonight, I finally exit the shower and dry off my hair, brushing it neatly. I raise my second skin again, watching as the other face forms over my own.

I can't help but grin. Every time I do that, it still looks incredibly cool.

 _ **(*)**_ I exit the bathroom to see Lacey sitting on her bed, leaning back on the pillows and reading a book. She greets me with a smile. "Hey, you."

I chuckle in amusement. "Hey."

Lacey grins mischievously, and pats the bed next to her with one hand. "Come here," she says.

I raise an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Really."

Well, I'm not the type of person who's going to say no to that. I grin and walk forward, sitting on the bed next to Lacey and swinging my legs up onto the bed. I wrap an arm around her shoulders, and she curls up against me, resting her head on my shoulder and sliding one of her arms around my back.

For several minutes, we lie there, holding each other. The top of Lacey's head is against my cheek; I tilt my head, inhaling deeply. Her hair smells like roses.

"Can I ask you something?" I murmur.

Lacey nods. "Sure."

"Why do you always smell like flowers?"

Lacey laughs, the sound partially muffled by my shirt. "Rose-scented soap," she explains. "My family always had roses in our yard when I was a kid. Ever since then, I've loved the smell of them."

"Huh." I smile, and, struck by an impulse, I kiss the top of her head. Her blonde hair is still damp from the shower.

Lacey is silent for a moment. Then she turns to face me, lifting her head so that we're at eye level. There's some emotion I can't recognize in her eyes.

"Uh… Lacey?" I mutter. "What are you doing?"

"Just…" Lacey appears to be considering something. "I want to try something."

I blink. "I… okay."

And then she leans forward and kisses me softly on the lips.

Saying that I'm surprised would be an understatement. Other than that one brief kiss with Allison, what seems like an eternity ago, I've never kissed anyone. And just the touch of Lacey's lips on mine feels like an electric shock running through every nerve in my body.

After a long moment, Lacey pulls back, looking hesitantly into my eyes.

All I can think of to say is, "Was that…" I clear my throat. "Was that your…"

"Ah... yeah," she whispers. "That was my first kiss." She glances around the room, and an amused smile flickers across her face. "I never thought it would be under these circumstances, but I'll take what I can get."

I grin, feeling a surge of emotion rushing through me. Before I can think of anything to say, an impulse takes over, and I lean down and kiss her again.

I've never felt anything like this; even Allison was nothing compared to the way I feel about Lacey. That makes sense, when I think about it. Allison was only ever an obsession, and an unhealthy one at that. I deluded myself into thinking that I loved her, but now that I can look back on it from an objective viewpoint, it's obvious that none of it was real.

Lacey is completely different. What I feel for her is real, and it's stronger than I could have imagined. Right now, there's nothing else in the world: just me, and Lacey, and the connection that is crackling between us. It feels like fire in my veins.

I almost don't know what to call it, because I've never felt this way about anyone before. But part of me knows what this is, as much as I tried to get rid of it. It's something I couldn't feel before my second death, something I wouldn't allow myself to feel.

Now, though… now I know what this feeling is.

Eventually, after what seems like an eternity, I pull back, trying to keep things from going too far. If I take this too far, we might both regret it afterwards, and that's the last thing I want.

Lacey looks up at me, gasping for air. Her face is red, and her breathing is fast and unsteady. I'm guessing that I look just as bad.

"We should stop," I manage.

She seems confused. "Why?"

"Because…" I close my eyes and take a deep breath, then let it out in a long sigh. "I don't want to get you into anything you're not ready for."

"Oh." Lacey blushes. "Well… thanks."

I smile, feeling my own cheeks flushing a bit. "No problem."

I lean down once more and give her a soft, lingering kiss, holding her gently in my arms. Then I lie back against the pillows, and she crawls up next to me, lying down and resting her head on my chest again.

We lie there for a few minutes, holding each other and listening to the soft sounds of our breathing as we both relax. I can feel the exhaustion of the day's events catching up to me.

"Um... can I ask you something?" Lacey speaks up after a while.

"Yeah?"

"Will you stay with me? I always have trouble sleeping unless I'm at home."

I smile. "Yeah, of course I will."

"Thank you." Her voice is softer now, and she shifts in my arms, nestling closer to me.

As I start to drift off to sleep, I murmur, "Sweet dreams, Lacey."

In the moment before the darkness takes me, I dimly hear her whispered response.

"You too, Matt."

Something about those words seems odd, but I'm asleep before I have time to think about it.

* * *

I wake up abruptly, feeling an icy sensation running down my spine. At first, I'm not sure where I am. It takes a few seconds for me to regain my bearings. When I look to my left and see Lacey sleeping next to me, it all comes back.

I glance to my right, looking at the alarm clock on the small nightstand between the beds. The numbers read 12:18 A.M.

I'm not sure why I woke up, but for whatever reason, I don't feel tired anymore. In fact, now that I think about it, I could use something to eat. Unfortunately, I didn't bring any food with me, but I did happen to see a vending machine outside while we were on our way to the room.

Gingerly easing my arm out from under Lacey, I stand up and stretch, flexing my arms. I quickly change out of my pajamas into my jeans, T-shirt, jacket, and shoes, and head out into the night, closing the door carefully behind me to avoid waking her.

The night air is surprisingly cold, and I'm shivering a little as I walk across the parking lot, searching for the vending machine. It takes a minute or two, but I finally notice the familiar light at a corner of the motel building, near a set of stairs.

When I get to the machine, I'm surprised to find that the glass window has been shattered. Pieces of broken glass are strewn all over the ground.

 _Huh._ I frown, looking around the darkened parking lot, but there's no one else there.

Ah, well, it doesn't really matter to me. This way, I don't have to put a bunch of money into the machine.

After filling my pockets with bags of candy, chips, and trail mix, I start walking back towards my room. Just as I reach the top of the stairs, though, the door of a room a few doors down from Room 214 opens, and Scott steps out and starts walking towards me. He looks odd; there's a strangely blank expression on his face, and his eyes are completely emotionless.

I stare at him, becoming more and more perplexed. He doesn't even seem to register that I'm there; instead, he walks straight past me, his gaze unwavering. I follow him with my eyes until he disappears downstairs, still not looking back.

 _Well, that was weird._ After a moment, I shrug. _Whatever._ I reenter my room and am about to close the door behind me, when a thought strikes me. _Wait… if that's not his room, then whose is it?_

Piling the snacks I got from the vending machine on the unoccupied bed, I exit the room again, closing the door behind me, and walk down to the room where Scott came from. The door is still ajar, and I push it open and step inside.

There's no one in the room, but I can hear the sound of a shower running in the bathroom. There are bags on each of the beds.

Well, I definitely don't want to just barge into the bathroom; if this turns out to be Isaac and Boyd's room, that wouldn't end well for me. Therefore, there are two methods I could use to figure out who's staying in here. I could look through their bags, or…

Opting for the simpler approach, I hold the door open and then close it loudly.

A few seconds later, the water turns off.

"Lydia?" a familiar female voice calls out. "Is that you?"

My eyes widen in surprise. And then an amused smirk flickers across my face.

_Allison._

Now, I could just leave right now, and she'd never know I was here. That would be the simplest (and probably the smartest) thing to do.

Except for the fact that Allison must have been the one who shot me in the abandoned mall yesterday.

Which means that she tried to kill me. _Again._

And, now that I have time to think about it, that really pisses me off.

My lips curve in a cruel smile.

_I think a little retribution is overdue._

* * *

_**Allison** _

As I finish my shower, I keep thinking about what just happened with Scott. Saying that he wasn't acting like himself would be an understatement. The only other time I've ever seen him like that was on a full moon.

Just as I turn off the water, I hear the outer door of the hotel room close.

"Lydia?" I call, part of me feeling nervous at the possibility that it might be Scott again. "Is that you?"

There's no reply, and a chill runs down the back of my neck. I dry off, quickly wrapping a towel around myself, and walk over to the door.

"Lydia?" I ask again hesitantly, securing my towel. I carefully reach out and take ahold of the doorknob. Before my nerves can get to me, I turn it and pull the door open.

There's no one there.

I walk slowly forwards, brushing my wet hair back from my face and glancing warily around the room. Fortunately, I don't see anyone. The room is empty.

Sighing in relief, I slump onto my bed, taking deep breaths and trying to relax. After a few seconds, I collapse backwards, lying flat on my back and staring up at the ceiling.

Lydia's right; there is something seriously wrong with this place. We really need to get out of here.

And, at that exact moment, a voice cuts through the silence.

"Wow, I never knew you were so jumpy."

I almost scream, but I manage to restrain myself to a loud gasp. Still, I leap off the bed, grabbing the towel protectively with one hand to hold it in place.

And then I freeze, staring in complete horror at the sight in front of me. It's like my mind short-circuits or something, refusing to register what I'm seeing.

Because what I'm seeing is impossible.

Sitting on Lydia's bed, directly in front of me, is Matt Daehler. He has a faint, amused smile on his face, and his eyes have the same intense gleam in them that I remember from the rave and the police station, months ago.

That was also the last time I saw him alive, before Gerard drowned him in the lake.

"That… that's impossible…" I stammer, taking a step backwards and bumping into the wall. "You… you're _dead!_ "

Matt looks up at me, that faint smile still there. "Hi, Allison." He rises elegantly to his feet, and the smile transforms into a cold, sadistic smirk. "Did you miss me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed the scene between Matt and Lacey in this chapter. I've been building up to that one for a while, and I'm fairly happy about how it went. I'm also curious to see if anyone noticed a particular detail towards the end of that scene, which may turn out to be pretty important later.
> 
> Next chapter, the terror intensifies at the Glen Capri, and Jennifer continues with her plan to manipulate Derek.


	12. Psycho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allison has a nightmarish encounter with Matt, and events at the Glen Capri reach their climax.

_**Allison** _

For a long moment, I'm actually speechless. Of all the people I could have expected to see right here, right now, Matt Daehler is the absolute last person it would be.

"So," Matt says conversationally, his cold blue eyes fixed on me. "I'm sure you're curious how this is happening."

"I…" I can't find the words to respond: my voice is stuck in my throat. "How…"

He chuckles, the sound low and soft, but still menacing. "Oh, Allison. Poor, naïve Allison. After everything you've been through with the supernatural, you should know by now that nothing stays dead for long."

* * *

_**Lydia Martin** _

I'm standing in the motel receptionist's office, waiting for someone to come out so I can see about getting clean towels for our room. There was only one clean one left, so I let Allison use it while I came down here to get more.

Finally, an older woman comes into the room. She nods to me and promptly sits down at the desk, opening a file cabinet next to it.

"Excuse me?" I ask. "The card on the dresser says we have a non-smoking room, but somehow all the towels reek of nicotine."

The woman turns to face me, and I realize with a start that she has a tube in her throat, characteristic of someone with lung damage due to smoking. "Sorry about that, sweetheart," she replies, with a rasping tone to her voice, and walks over to a cabinet containing numerous fresh towels.

Trying to avoid an awkward situation, I look up at the back wall, and notice a large wooden sign with three hanging placards on it. Each of the placards has a single number on it: **1** , **9** , and **8**.

"What's that?" I inquire, pointing to it. "That number?"

She glances over to it and nods. "Oh, that. It's a kind of inside thing for the motel. My husband insists on keeping it up."

I frown. "What do you mean?"

She chuckles, the sound harsh and grating. "It's a little bit morbid, to be honest. You sure you want to know?"

A chill runs up my spine, but I nod firmly. "Tell me."

"Well, we're not gonna make the top of anyone's list when it comes to customer satisfaction."

"Obviously," I retort.

She grins faintly. "But we are number one in California when it comes to one disturbing little detail. Since opening, more than any other motel in California… we have the most guest suicides."

For a moment, it feels like ice is crawling up my spine. My eyes widen in shock, and I stare at her in disbelief.

My gaze shifts to the sign at the back of the room, and the number 198.

"One hundred and ninety-eight?" I whisper.

She chuckles, the sound harsh and rasping. "And counting."

* * *

_**Allison** _

When the shock and terror starts to wear off, instinct takes over. I promptly jump off the bed and dash towards the door, focused on escape. I don't have any weapons, but Scott, Isaac and Boyd are all here, and I'm positive they can handle Matt.

Before I reach the door, Matt laughs, and a force like a wave slams into my left side, knocking me off my feet and sending me crashing into the wall. I cry out in pain, falling to the floor and rolling over.

Matt is standing exactly where he was before, except that one hand is now extended towards me. He smirks. "Nice try, but that's not going to happen."

I stare at him in shock. "How… how did you do that?"

"I've picked up a few tricks," he explains with a flippant wave of his hand. "Having the right teacher can do wonders."

I blink, confused. "What?"

"Not important. Anyway, now that I have your attention…" Matt chuckles to himself. "Now, you're probably thinking something along the lines of 'How is this possible?', right? I mean, I get it, I'm supposed to be dead. Well, actually, I _did_ die. Drowned, fished out, body stuffed in a morgue, _kkkkk._ " He makes the universal throat-cutting gesture at this last sound, tilting his head to the side with a sadistic grin. "Ever tried waking up in a morgue, Allison? It's not fun. Especially when you've been a corpse for three days and your entire body feels like it's made out of rubber."

I've been trying to edge my way towards the door, seeing if I can get out while he's talking, but Matt notices. He smirks, holding out one hand towards the door, and makes a twisting motion with his index finger and thumb. The door abruptly locks with a muffled _click_.

I look frantically towards the door and then back to Matt, uncomprehending. How the hell did he do that?

"Like I said, I've learned a few tricks," he says. "But I didn't really come here to explain things."

I try to get some words out, my voice a strangled whisper. "How… why are you here?"

"Oh, that's the easy part," he explains. "I'm here for some good old-fashioned payback." His blue eyes glitter with cruel amusement. "Payback's a bitch, Allison. You should know that better than anyone. In my case, I became irrationally obsessed with you, and in return your grandfather brutally drowned me in the lake."

I manage to stand up, my back against the wall, holding the towel firmly around myself.

"That's not why I'm here, though," he continues. "I'm here because of what _you've_ done."

That remark confuses me. I frown. "What? I thought you said this wasn't about me."

"It isn't about what _I_ did to _you_ ," he clarifies. "This is about what _you've_ done to _me_."

"What… what did I ever do to you?"

His eyes narrow. "Allow me to explain. But first, I think you should sit down." He swipes his hand in an arc, and something invisible slams into me, launching me across the room and sending me crashing down onto my bed. My towel comes loose, and I frantically pull it back into place to cover myself.

"As I was saying," Matt carries on as if nothing happened, "you've actually done quite a few things to me, but most of them have to do with my little infatuation with you, and I'm over that. So, I won't bother bringing those up, which leaves only two grievances. Coincidentally, those are also the worst ones." He scowls and begins pacing. "The first is the fact that, by delaying me and keeping me from escaping the police station for a significant length of time, you managed to slow me down enough that your grandfather was able to catch me. If that hadn't happened, he couldn't have killed me."

I'm shivering uncontrollably and my heart is racing: I keep glancing around the room for potential weapons or escape options.

"The second one," he adds, "might very well be even worse, both because you _deliberately_ tried to kill me that time… and because it happened very recently."

At this, I'm actually caught off guard. I turn to face him. "What?" That's ridiculous; I haven't seen Matt since he died months ago.

"Well, I didn't exactly look like myself at the time, but yes, you did." After a moment, Matt grins. "Let me show you what I mean."

And then his eyes light up, glowing. Not the red, blue or yellow of a werewolf, but a ghostly, pale white.

I gasp, my eyes wide with fear.

I've seen those eyes twice in the last few days. Once at the school, when I helped to capture Boyd and Cora. And once yesterday, at the abandoned mall.

That's when Matt's outline blurs and morphs, the color of his clothing and skin changing to perfectly mirror the wall and dresser behind him, and I realize what this is.

It's the creature from the school: the bizarre shapeshifter that can blend in perfectly with its surroundings, like some kind of human chameleon.

But… that's not possible. I shot that thing in the chest with an arrow at the abandoned mall, and then it fell over the same drop as Derek and Ennis. There was no way it could have survived. And there's no possible way it could actually be _Matt_.

But there's no denying the fact that I just watched him turn into that thing, right in front of me.

"You…" I whisper, edging closer to the nightstand next to the bed. "It was you the whole time? Why?"

"I was conducting reconnaissance," the creature explains, in an odd, distorted version of Matt's voice. "I was told to keep an eye on your friends."

"You were _told?_ " Something about that doesn't seem right. "Who told you to do that?"

The chameleon chuckles, the sound echoing and resonant. "Now, what would be the fun in telling you _everything?_ "

That's when I move, seizing the lamp on the nightstand and, with one powerful motion, hurling it straight at Matt. The impact knocks him off his feet, and he hits the ground with a yell of pain.

Immediately, I run for the door, hurriedly unlocking it and pulling it open. I've taken one step outside when what feels like an invisible bungee cord whips around my torso and yanks me bodily back into the room, hurling me completely over both beds and sending me crashing into the wall.

The impact knocks the wind out of my lungs. My back flares with searing pain, and I crumple to the floor, gasping for air.

"That," the chameleon snarls, standing up, "was entirely unnecessary." With a pulse of light, it morphs back into Matt, who looks over at me with cold anger burning in his glowing white eyes. He waves his hand, and the door slams shut, locking itself again.

"See, the funny thing is, Allison," he says, walking slowly towards me, "there's a certain irony here." His attitude reminds me of a snake stalking a cornered mouse. "The last time we met, the situation was a lot like this one. Except then, I needed a dose of Kanima venom to shut you up. Now, well… I'm not interested in delegating any more, because I'm powerful enough on my own."

I still can't move: every muscle in my body is in pain. Whatever the hell Matt is now, he's strong, a lot stronger than me.

"We're about out of time," he says, "so I'll make this last part quick." He smirks in amusement. "Do you remember what I told you the last time we talked? You know, right before your grandfather murdered me in cold blood? It doesn't apply anymore, of course, but I thought it summed up the situation very nicely back then."

Staring weakly up at him, I manage to prop myself up on one arm, struggling to get up. If he's about to kill me, I'm at least going to put up a fight.

"Well, in case you don't remember, it was very simple," he continues. "What I said was: _Allison…_ " His glowing white eyes narrow, his gaze seeming to pierce right through me.

And then his appearance starts to change again. This time, he doesn't become the chameleon and phase into insubstantiality: instead, his skin becomes deathly pale, showing a network of blue blood vessels beneath. His brown hair becomes pure white, and grows out to his shoulders before lifting up around his head, swirling as if he was underwater. Worst of all, the skin of his face becomes translucent, showing the bones underneath. His eyes are the only things that remain the same, still glowing deathly white.

I jerk backwards as the horrific visage leans slowly down towards me.

"If I can't have you…" Matt continues. His voice is now deep and rasping, his face a skull. His glowing eyes narrow. " _No one can!_ " With an inhuman screech, he shoves his right hand palm-outwards towards me, and a massive force crushes down on me, slamming my head back against the carpeted floor.

I see stars for a moment, and then everything goes black.

* * *

I wake up dazedly to the sound of someone knocking loudly on the door of the room. I sit up, registering that I'm lying on the floor next to Lydia's bed. The towel is still wrapped around me, and I'm pretty sure I have a nasty bruise on my head, but I'm all right.

Then the rest of what happened comes back to me, and I sit bolt upright, looking around with a gasp.

Matt is gone. There's no sign of him anywhere: the room is empty, except for me.

_Did... did that really just happen?_

The knocking continues, so I hurry across the room and carefully look out through the peephole in the door. To my relief, it's Lydia, carrying a load of clean towels.

"About time," she snaps as I open the door, entering the room and dumping the towels on my bed. "What took you so long?"

"Sorry, I…" I consider telling her about what happened, but I now realize that I have no way to prove that it actually happened. Not to mention that this place has her scared enough as it is, and I don't want to make it worse. "I fell asleep after I got out of the shower. Your knocking woke me up."

"Oh." Lydia nods. "Sorry, but I couldn't open the door while I was holding those." She closes the door, looks more closely at me, and frowns. "Are you okay?"

I blink, looking back at her. "Yeah… yeah, I'm fine. This place just freaks me out a little."

She scoffs. "You think the _room's_ bad? First of all, I found out that the reason all of our towels smell like cigarette smoke is because the lady running the front desk is apparently a chain smoker with a tube in her throat." A shiver runs through her. "And just wait until you hear what she told me about this place."

* * *

_**Matt** _

As I stroll across the parking lot, I smirk to myself, feeling the rush of adrenaline through my system.

Vengeance is very, very sweet when savored properly. The look on Allison's face was worth all of the trouble this might cause.

After knocking her unconscious, I'd left the room immediately: Lydia will likely be coming back any minute now, and I had no intention of being there when she did.

So now, I'm faced with two options: keep snooping around, or go back upstairs and get some sleep.

Well, since I don't know what rooms any of the wolves are staying in, I might as well go back to my own room. Plus, Lacey will probably worry if she happens to wake up and I'm not there.

Hurrying back up the stairs to my room, I swipe my room key in the slot, unlocking the door, and enter, closing the door carefully behind me.

Lacey is lying on her bed, curled up under the covers. Only her head is visible: her lips are moving, as if she's whispering something to herself in her sleep.

After changing back into my pajama pants and black T-shirt in the bathroom, I climb back into bed beside Lacey, sliding my left arm around her shoulders to hold her comfortingly. She doesn't respond, except to nestle closer to me. She still seems to be whispering to herself, but I can't hear anything.

"Good night, Lacey," I whisper, turning off the room lights and letting myself sink into a surprisingly comfortable sleep.

Just before I drift off to sleep, I catch a glimpse of something odd: a momentary flash of green light in the darkness, visible in the corner of my left eye. It seems unusual somehow, but I'm asleep before I can think about figuring out what it is.

* * *

_**Derek** _

The pain jolts through me as Jennifer pulls my torn shirt gingerly up and over my head, carefully making sure not to scrape any of my injuries in the process. "Oh my god," she breathes, clamping a hand over her mouth.

"How bad?" I manage.

"To be honest," she replies quietly, "the 'oh my god' would be for your unbelievable physique, if it weren't for the fact that you're bleeding black blood."

I almost laugh at that, but lifting my head triggers another burst of pain, and I let it fall back, going limp. My vision blurs, and I close my eyes momentarily as I feel a sudden rush of vertigo.

"Derek?" Jennifer asks. Her eyes widen in alarm. "Oh, god, you're not dying, are you? Derek, please don't die! Derek!" She throws herself forward, pressing the side of her head against my chest, and then sighs in relief when she hears my heartbeat.

As I lose consciousness again, I hear her whisper, "Not exactly how I'd imagined our first date."

* * *

_**Allison** _

After a quick phone call from my dad, in which I assured him that we didn't need him to come pick us up, I'm back in the room with Lydia, listening to her explanation about the motel. Honestly, it scares me.

"One hundred and ninety-eight?" I ask incredulously, pacing back and forth as I brush my hair.

"Yes, and we're talking forty years," Lydia says. "On average, that's… four-point-ninety-five a year, which is…" She paused. "Actually expected. But who commemorates that with a _framed number?_ Who does that? Who?"

"All suicides?"

She nods. "Yes. Hanging, throat-cutting, pill-popping, both-barrels-of-a-shotgun-in-the-mouth suicides. I don't know about you, but I…" She trails off abruptly, tilting her head as if she's listening to something, and then turns back to me. "Did you hear that?"

I frown. "Hear what?"

As I watch, Lydia slowly stands up, looking carefully around the room. Her eyes fall on the air ventilation grate over her bed, and she climbs up onto the bed, walking slowly towards the grate.

"Lydia?" I speak up nervously, but she doesn't reply. Her breathing is faster now: her eyes are wide in fright.

"Oh, my god," she whispers, a horrified expression appearing on her face. "Oh, my god."

A few more seconds pass, and then Lydia jumps back, recoiling as if a cannon has just gone off. She almost falls over, but manages to catch her balance.

"What is it, Lydia?" I demand, grasping her shoulder as she jumps down from the bed. "What happened?"

"Did you hear that?" she cries, frantically pointing to the ventilation grate.

"Hear what?" I ask

"The two people in the other room… they shot each other!" She whirls around and runs for the door.

"Lydia, wait!" I call, hurrying after her.

Lydia rushes down the outside hallway until she reaches the next room over, 216. She hesitantly turns the handle, and to my surprise, it opens. The room inside is dark.

"Hello?" she calls out hesitantly as she steps into the room and begins running her hand along the wall.

"Lydia, what are you doing?" I ask quietly, walking into the room after her.

"Hello?" she calls again, walking farther into the room. After taking a few steps, she bumps into something: a moment later, a light turns on, illuminating the room.

This room is completely vacant: no bed, no cabinets, nothing. Instead, it's filled with construction equipment, suggesting that it's undergoing renovations.

Lydia looks around in shock. "It had to be right here," she whispers, before turning to face me with tears in her eyes. "It was a guy and a girl, and, I mean, they sounded younger, but… they were here."

After a moment, I nod. "I believe you. After everything we've been through, I believe you." I mean it, too: considering that I've already seen a ghost tonight, I'll believe anything at this point.

* * *

"There is something seriously wrong with this place," Lydia mutters, zipping up her bag. "Allison, we need to leave."

"But they were suicides, not murders," I argue. "And it's not like this place is haunted, right?" That last part lacks conviction: for a moment, I swear I can hear Matt chuckling.

"Maybe it is," Lydia shoots back. "You know, I bet that couple made their suicide pact in that very room. Maybe that's why they're renovating. Maybe they've been scraping _brain matter_ off the wood paneling."

I consider for a moment. "Maybe we should find out."

* * *

We hurry downstairs to the main office where Lydia got the new towels, planning to ask the manager. Only, when we get there, the woman she talked to is nowhere to be seen.

"Well, there goes that," Lydia mutters, looking around the empty office.

I notice something odd: the placard Lydia mentioned, hanging on the wall at the back of the room. It's exactly what she described.

Only…

I frown. "Didn't you say the sign said 198?"

"It was 198," Lydia confirms. She looks over at the sign and freezes, staring fixedly at it.

The placard now reads **201**.

She looks back at me. "I swear to god, it was 198."

"Okay, what does that mean?" A horrifying idea occurs to me. "That there've been three more suicides?"

She nods. "Or three more are about to happen."

* * *

_**Stiles** _

Well, this place is getting creepier by the second. First I see Boyd acting weird, then Scott starts acting odd too, and now Lydia and Allison are telling me that something even worse is going on.

"The last time I saw Scott like that was during the full moon," Allison says, pacing back and forth across the room.

"Yeah, I know," I agree. "He was definitely a little off with me too. But actually, it was Boyd who was really off. I watched him put his fist through the vending machine."

"See?" Lydia speaks up. "It _is_ the motel. So either we need to get out of here right now, or someone needs to learn how to do an exorcism ASAP, before the werewolves go crazy and kill us."

"Okay, just hold on, all right?" I try to think. "What if it's not just the motel? The number in the office went up by three, right?"

"You mean like three sacrifices?" Allison asks.

"Yeah," I agree. "What if this time it's three werewolves?"

Her eyes widen. "Scott, Isaac and Boyd."

I nod. "Maybe we were meant to come here."

"Exactly!" Lydia cries. "So can we get the hell out of here now? Please?"

That's when I notice something odd: a slip of paper, poking out of the room Bible that's resting on the nightstand.

"Wait, hang on. Let me see this." I walk over, pick it up, and withdraw the paper. It turns out to be a cutout newspaper article.

"What is that?" Allison inquires.

I frown as I read the headline. "'Twenty-eight-year-old man hangs himself at the infamous Glen Capri.'" Struck by an idea, I open the book and begin flipping through it. Sure enough, more slips of paper fall out onto the bed. All of them appear to be news articles, just like the first one.

Lydia picks up some of the articles and glances through them. "These two both mention the room 217," she says in realization. She looks up at us. "These are probably all the suicides that happened in this room."

"So, if every room has a Bible…" Allison reasons.

"Then there could be articles in all of the rooms," Lydia finishes.

"Oh, that's a beautiful thing," I comment sardonically. "Most places leave a mint under the pillow: this one leaves a record of all the horrific deaths that occurred."

Lydia looks over at Allison. "What if the room next door has the one about the couple?"

Before I can ask her what she means, she jumps up and hurries out of the room. Allison and I follow her out of the room and down the hallway to the next one over, Room 216. She tries the handle, but it's locked and doesn't budge.

"No," Lydia murmurs. "That was not locked before."

"Forget it," Allison decides. "We need to get Scott, Isaac and Boyd out of here." She turns away, but is stopped by a high-pitched whine coming from inside the locked room.

"I'm not the only one who heard that, am I?" Lydia asks slowly, as we all look over at the locked door.

Allison shakes her head. "It sounds like someone turned the handsaw on."

" _Handsaw?_ " I repeat incredulously. We exchange one look, and then instantly turn and lunge for the door, pushing in an attempt to get it open. Frustrated, Allison slams a kick into the door, smashing it open.

We burst into the room, just in time to see Ethan holding up a handsaw, about to jam it into his own stomach.

"Hey!" I yell, rushing forward. "No, Ethan, don't!" I lunge forward and grab his arms, trying to pull the saw away from him. He snarls, yanking against my grip, until Allison whips an arm around his neck from behind, grabbing one arm and twisting it away from the saw. I'm able to pull it out of his hand and switch it off, immediately setting it safely on the floor.

Ethan looks around for a moment, and then his eyes darken again. He raises his hands, extending his claws, and lifts them in preparation to stab himself.

"No!" Allison and I each grab one of his arms, pulling back his hands and trying to pin them behind his back. He fights back, snarling, and wrenches free, stumbling and falling against a heater. There's a hiss, and he yells in pain, recoiling and falling to the floor.

He looks up at us, his eyes wide and shocked. "What just happened?" he demands. Before any of us can respond, he scrambles to his feet and dashes out of the room.

"Ethan!" I call, chasing after him.

* * *

_**Derek** _

"Are you sure you want to do that?" Jennifer asks anxiously as I sit up slowly.

"I have to find the others," I answer quietly. "They think I'm dead."

"Well, maybe that's a good thing," she argues. "You know how many characters in literature use a false death to their advantage? Ever read Les Mis? Tale of Two Cities?" She smiles. "Romeo and Juliet?"

I look up at her. "They need to know."

Her smile fades slightly. "Do you have any idea how bad you look? You're like one giant open wound. I'm not entirely sure you aren't really dead."

A sigh escapes my lips as I sit back. "It doesn't matter: I have to find them."

"Well, you can find them a lot easier once you're not half-dead," she reasons. "You don't have any bandages or any kind of first aid here: I checked."

"I usually don't need them." I wince, holding in a hiss of pain.

"So how do we fix you up, then?"

I shrug. "Time." Another spark of pain jolts me, but I try to ignore it. "You shouldn't be here."

"Why's that?" she inquires gently.

"Because you don't know me," I explain simply. "You don't know anything about me."

"Well, maybe I have a feeling about you."

I almost laugh at that. "It shouldn't be a good one. Everyone around me…" l lower my head, looking at the floor. "Everyone gets hurt."

Jennifer smiles faintly. "I've been hurt before."

I shake my head slowly. "Not like this."

And then, to my astonishment, she leans in slowly and kisses me.

* * *

_**Stiles** _

"Didn't you hear what I just said?" Ethan snaps. "I don't know how I got there or what I was doing."

"Okay, you could be a little bit more helpful, you know," I retort. "We did just save your life."

"And you probably shouldn't have." With that, he turns and walks away.

"What now?" Lydia asks.

"I'll find Scott," Allison says. "You guys grab Isaac and Boyd. The best thing we can do is get them out of this place."

Nodding, I hurry out of the room and down the stairs. Lydia follows close behind me: I keep glancing back at her: I'm starting to get worried, but I try not to let her notice it.

As we get to the ground floor, she pauses, looking around, and then looks back at me quizzically. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

I snap out of it, my eyes widening in alarm. "Oh, no, I was…"

She cuts me off immediately. "Stiles…"

After a few seconds, I sigh. "All right, Lydia. I didn't want to say anything, but this… everything we're going through… we've kind-of been through something like this before. A lot like this."

She frowns. "What do you mean? When?"

"Your birthday party. The night you poisoned everyone with wolfsbane."

* * *

"Lydia, I'm sorry, okay?" I call as I follow her across the parking lot. "Look, I didn't mean that you're trying to kill people, okay? I just… I just meant that maybe… maybe you're somehow involved in getting people to kill themselves, you know?" I blink. "Which, now that I say that out loud, it just sounds really terrible, so I'm just going to stop talking."

"Stiles?" Lydia says, stopping abruptly. She looks around, her eyes wide. "Do you hear that?"

"What?" I ask.

She shivers, her gaze focusing on a storm grate in the middle of the parking lot, and takes a few steps towards it, crouching down slightly.

"Lydia, what do you hear?" I press gently, staying close to her.

"A baby crying," she murmurs. "I hear…" She frowns, tilting her head. "I hear water running." Then a look of horror flashes across her face, and she gasps in shock. "Oh, my god. She's drowning the baby!"

"What?" I exclaim.

She whirls to face me. "Someone's drowning!" With that, she runs off towards the buildings.

"Lydia, wait!" I yell, chasing after her.

* * *

Lydia bursts into one of the rooms, which, fortunately, was unlocked. I follow her in, to see Boyd lying in the full bathtub, his legs hanging out over one end. He's holding a metal safe in his hands, which is pinning him down underwater against the bottom of the tub. He's not moving.

Frantically, I reach down past his head, fumbling with the drain in an attempt to drain the tub, but nothing happens when I pull on the handle.

"He blocked it," I realize. "He blocked the drain with something, I can't get to it."

"What do we do?" she asks, staring at Boyd in terror.

"Here, help me," I order, grabbing the safe with both hands and pulling upwards with all of my strength. Lydia joins in, and we manage to lift it a couple of centimeters, but it slips back down again immediately.

"It's too heavy," I gasp after about a minute.

"Is he dead? How long can a werewolf stay underwater?"

"You think I know that?" I ask incredulously. Standing up, I back away, leaning my back against the wall and accidentally brushing my shoulder against the heater set into one wall. Immediately, a burst of searing heat runs through me, and I jump up with an involuntary yell of "Ow!"

Then my mind starts to work it out, even as the pain quickly fades. "Wait a sec… the heater." I turn to Lydia. "Ethan came out of it when he touched the heater."

She seems confused. "What?"

"It's heat! Heat, fire! Heat does it, all right? We need something…" I look around the room frantically. "We need fire."

"He's _underwater!_ " Lydia snaps.

"Yeah, I'm aware of that!" I retort.

"Wait, wait…" Lydia's eyes widen, and she grabs my arm. "The bus. On the bus, they'll have emergency road flares. They have their own oxidizers; they can burn underwater."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes! _Go!_ "

"Right!" I jump to my feet and rush out of the room.

* * *

_**Lydia** _

Fortunately, Stiles is quick, and he's back in less than a minute. He bursts through the door, holding two of the flares from the bus. "I got 'em," he says, fumbling with one of them. "What do I do? How do I do this?"

"The cap, it's like a match," I explain. "The cap's a match." I see him trying uselessly to pry it off, and snap, " _Stiles!_ "

"Yeah, I'm trying!" he retorts, right before the cap pops off and the tip of the flare bursts into a sizzling pink flame. He jerks back initially, then walks forward and shoves the flare down into the bathtub near Boyd's head, careful to stay away from his hands.

After a couple of seconds, we get dramatic results. Boyd's body jerks upward convulsively, and he tosses the safe aside, sending it crashing to the floor. He sits bolt upright with a roar, his eyes blazing yellow and his fangs and claws extended, but regains control almost immediately and looks around at us in confusion.

"Stiles, over here," I say, pulling on his arm. He follows me back out into the room.

"Isaac's under there," I explain, pointing to the bed. "He's not trying to hurt himself, but I think he's in shock or something. We need to snap him out of it too."

He nods. "Got it." Unscrewing the cap of the second flare and lighting it, he walks over and crouches down next to the bed, lifting up the sheet to reveal Isaac lying underneath it.

"Hey there, Isaac," he says sympathetically. "Got something here for you." He extends the hand holding the flare under the bed, and I turn away abruptly, wincing, when I hear a yell of pain from Isaac.

* * *

"I can't find Scott anywhere," Allison says urgently as the three of us hurry down the stairs towards where the bus is parked.

"It's happening to him too, isn't it?" Stiles asks.

"It has to be," I reply. "Didn't you say there was another flare on the bus?"

"Yeah, I'll get it." He hurries around the corner, only to stop short, staring at something. Allison and I hurry forward to join him, but stop as we see it.

Scott is standing next to the bus, holding the third flare. It's lit, the sputtering pink flame casting shadows on the concrete around him. He's dripping wet, and there's a large puddle on the ground around him: at first it looks like he dumped water on himself, but then I notice the large red plastic container lying a few feet away, with GASOLINE written on it in large white letters.

 _Oh, God,_ I think.

"Scott?" Allison asks softly, walking carefully towards him. Stiles and I follow right behind her.

Scott is silent for a long moment, his face blank. "There's no hope," he rasps after a moment, his voice filled with sorrow.

"What do you mean, Scott?" Allison asks, her voice shaking. "There's always hope."

He shakes his head fractionally. "Not for me. Not for Derek."

"Derek wasn't your fault," she argues. "You know Derek wasn't your fault."

"Every time I try to fight back, it just gets worse," Scott whispers. "People keep getting hurt. People keep getting killed."

"Scott, listen to me, okay?" Stiles says, taking a step forward. "This isn't you, all right? This is someone, inside your head, telling you to do this, okay? Now…"

"What if it isn't?" Scott blinks, holding back tears. "What if this is just me? What if doing this is actually the best thing that I could do for everyone else?" He lifts his head slightly, looking at Stiles. "It all started that night… the night I got bitten. You remember the way it was before that?"

Stiles nods slowly, clearly trying desperately to stay calm.

"You and me, we were… we were… we were nothing." Scott's eyes close for a moment. "We weren't popular. We weren't good at lacrosse. We weren't important. We were no one." A tear runs down his cheek. "Maybe I should just be no one again. No one at all." He shifts his grip on the flare.

"Scott…" Stiles's voice cracks. "Just listen to me, okay? You're not no one. Okay? You're someone, you're… Scott, you're my best friend. Okay? And I need you." His eyes are bright with unshed tears. "Scott, you're my _brother_."

And then he takes a deliberate step into the pool of gasoline around Scott's feet. "All right, so… if you're gonna do this, then I think you're just gonna have to take me with you, then."

Allison's hands are clasped over her mouth.

Slowly, Stiles takes ahold of the flare in Scott's hand, and carefully pulls it free. Scott doesn't resist.

Tossing the flare safely away from the gasoline, Stiles lets his shoulders sag in relief and hugs Scott, who is shivering. Allison and I share a sigh of relief, and for a moment, it seems like it's over.

Until I happen to look over at the flare, just in time to see a sudden gust of wind sending it rolling back towards the pool of gasoline.

" _No!_ " I scream, just as the flare strikes the puddle.

The gasoline ignites and bursts into flames just as Allison and I rush forward. I tackle Scott and Stiles out of the way as a fireball roars upwards into the air.

I roll over, looking back at the flames…

And that's when I see it.

It is standing in the heart of the flames: a dark shape, a hooded figure wearing a black robe. The only thing I can see clearly is its face: a hideous visage, covered in scars. It lets out a high-pitched screech, and vanishes as quickly as it appeared.

The flames die, and, for a long moment, everything is silent.

* * *

_**Stiles** _

Well, after a night like that, there was no way we were sleeping inside the motel. So, after retrieving all of our bags from the rooms we were staying in, the four of us promptly returned to the bus and slept there for the rest of the night.

I'm awakened by the sound of Coach saying, "I don't want to know. I really don't want to know." He's standing at the front of the bus, looking back at us with an irritated expression on his face. "But, in case you missed the announcement, the meet's cancelled. We're heading home." He waves a hand to the other students, stepping aside to let Danny and Ethan onto the bus. "Pack it in, pack it in!" he calls.

To my surprise, Ethan sits down next to Scott. "I don't know what happened last night," he says in a low voice, "but I'm pretty sure you saved my life."

"Actually, _I_ saved your life," I interject, quickly adding, "not that it matters that much. It's just… a minor detail," when he glances back at me.

Ethan turns back to Scott. "So I'm going to give you something. We're pretty sure Derek's still alive."

Scott looks at me, his eyes wide in shock, and then turns back to Ethan.

"But he killed one of ours," Ethan continues, "which means one of two things can happen. Either he joins our pack…"

"And kills his own," Scott murmurs.

Ethan nods. "Or Kali goes after him, and we kill him. That's the way it works."

"You know, your little code of ethics there is sort of barbaric, just F.Y.I.," I point out.

Ignoring me, he stands up and heads for the back of the bus, where Danny is sitting.

I glance after him and see Lydia staring fixedly at something towards the front of the bus. Turning back towards the front of the bus, I see Coach coming down the aisle.

"Hey, Ethan," he calls. "I wanted to…"

"Coach, can I see your whistle for a second?" Lydia asks, quickly standing up and pulling the whistle off over his head.

"I'm gonna need that back," Coach says, before turning back to talk to Ethan.

Lydia moves forward and sits down in the seat across from where Scott and I are sitting. She holds up the whistle, examining it, and then places it against her hand and blows into it. Lowering the whistle, she turns her palm towards us, showing that there's now a patch of purple dust on her hand.

"Wolfsbane," she says, her eyes wide.

"So, every time Coach blew the whistle on the bus," I mutter as I put it together, "Scott, Isaac, Boyd…"

"And Ethan," Lydia puts in.

"We all inhaled it," Scott realizes.

"You were all poisoned by it," Allison adds.

"So that's how the Darach got in their heads," I say in realization. "That's how he did it."

It doesn't take much effort to decide what we need to do next: Coach is going to keep blowing that whistle all the way back to Beacon Hills, and if he does, the werewolves will inhale it again and this whole nightmare could happen all over again.

So I grab the whistle from Lydia, turn around, open the bus window and throw the whistle outside, ignoring Coach's yell of "Hey, hey, hey, hey! Stilinski!"

As the whistle disappears outside, the bus driver starts the engine, and we pull out of the parking lot.

* * *

_**Scott** _

To my surprise, Allison asks to switch seats with Stiles after a few minutes. He agrees, probably because that means he can sit next to Lydia and ask her more questions about what happened to her at the motel.

As Allison sits down next to me, I notice something in her eyes. Her heart is beating faster than it normally is, and I swear she's shivering.

"Allison?" I ask. "What's wrong?"

She looks over at me, a nervous expression on her face. "Well… do you remember how we told you that only the werewolves had hallucinations at that motel?"

I nod, not really getting where she's going with this. "Yeah."

"Well, I was lying." She exhales slowly. "I did see something."

I blink in confusion. "What did you see?"

"I…" She looks down. "This is going to sound crazy, but… I think I saw a ghost. Someone I thought was dead."

A chill runs up my spine. "Who was it?"

She appears to be struggling with something, as if part of her doesn't want to tell me. After a few seconds, she finally lifts her head, looking up at me.

"Matt," she says softly. "Matt Daehler, the guy who was using Jackson to all those people a few months ago."

For an instant, it feels like my blood has turned to ice.

" _What?_ " I ask, my eyes wide in shock.

"Yeah," Allison answers, not realizing why I'm reacting so strongly to this. "He was in my room: he told me he'd come back to life, and that he wanted payback." She shivers. "Scott, I don't know how he did it, but… he made things move without touching them. He closed and locked the door of my room from the other side of the room, and he threw me across the room without touching me when I tried to get out. And then he… he _changed_. First he matched the background, like some kind of chameleon, and then… then he looked like a corpse. I could see his skull and veins under his skin, and his eyes were…" There's a haunted look on her face. "They were glowing white."

I'm staring at her in astonishment. She's seen Matt too? This means I'm not going crazy and hallucinating him, unless she is too.

Which means…

"Allison," I say softly. "Is that the first time you saw him, or have you seen him before?"

She looks at me in surprise. "I…" Then her eyes widen. "Yeah, I have, only he looked like the chameleon-thing both times. Once at the school, the night Boyd and Cora were loose. And…"

"Last night, during the fight at the abandoned mall?" I finish. "You shot him with an arrow, didn't you?"

Her head snaps around to look at me. "How did you know that?" she asks.

I sigh. "Because I've been seeing him too, ever since the first day of school. I don't know how, or why, but I keep seeing him. He's never actually talked to me, though, but I have heard him a few times. And I saw him that night in the mall, right before you shot him in the chest and he fell over the edge."

Allison is staring at me in disbelief. "How's this possible?" she whispers.

I shake my head. "I don't know. But I think we need to figure it out. Because I thought I might have just been hallucinating or something when I saw him. But if you can see him too, and you were really able to shoot him that night, then that means…" I shiver, feeling like there's ice in my stomach.

"That means, somehow... he must be real."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was another interesting hint in the scene with Matt and Lacey in this chapter: if anyone thinks they know what it was, please feel free to guess what it was, and what it means!
> 
> Next chapter, Matt gets a panicked call from Lacey, Derek and his pack face off against the Alphas, Scott races to save a close friend from the Darach, and a startling discovery is made.


	13. Race Against Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt receives a panicked phone call from Lacey, Scott goes on a mission to rescue Deaton from the Darach, and Derek's pack engages in a violent battle with Kali.

_**Matt** _

The sound of my cell phone ringing snaps me awake. I sit up groggily and pick up the phone from my nightstand, rubbing my eyes.

"Hello?" I mutter, holding the phone to my ear.

" _Michael?"_ a panicked female voice asks.

My eyes widen. "Lacey? What's wrong?"

" _Something's wrong with me. I don't know what it is, but… my head and stomach hurt really badly, and it won't stop. It feels like my head's gonna split open, and I feel really sick."_ She coughs. _"Michael, my parents are out of town… can you please come over? I think I need to…"_ She falls silent, coughing again, and whimpers in pain.

"Lacey? Lacey!" There's no reply.

I hurry over to my dresser, pulling out clothes as I talk. "Lacey, listen, okay? Don't go anywhere: I'll be over in twenty minutes."

Pulling on jeans, a T-shirt, and my usual leather jacket, I run out the front door of the apartment, assuming my second skin with a flash of light, and head for my car.

* * *

_**Scott** _

All things considered, tonight could be going better. I decided to visit my mom at the hospital to bring her something to eat, only to find that the entire hospital is in chaos.

"Does anyone know where Dr. Hilyard is?" my mom is calling as I walk down the hallway. She spots me approaching and grins. "Oh, thank god. I'm starving."

I smile, handing her the bag of takeout that I brought with me. She grins back at me. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Thank you for bringing me dinner." She hugs me and places the bag behind the front desk.

I glance around the hospital at the chaotic scene. "Is everything okay?"

She shrugs. "Except for half the accident victims in a ten-car pileup being rerouted here from downtown, and the E.R. attendant not answering any of his pages, yeah, I'm okay."

I frown. "What does 'not answering pages' mean?"

"It means that nobody can find him, so now we have to wait for the on-call to get here," she explains.

"Miss?" a female patient calls weakly.

"Yes?" my mom inquires, walking over to her.

"I'm sorry, but… could I please have something for the pain?"

My mom frowns sympathetically. "Oh, I'm sorry. I know it hurts. But actually, giving you something could complicate things, so we really just need to wait for the doctors. Okay?"

The patient blinks up at her. "All right," she replies quietly.

"Okay, thank you." My mom turns away, calling, "How much longer on Dr. Hilyard?"

"Ten minutes," a nearby receptionist calls back.

As my mom talks to another doctor, I sit down in the chair next to the patient, and decide to see if I can help. "Um, you know, I think I read online that sometimes human contact can help with pain," I suggest, holding out a hand. "May I?"

The woman looks back at me quizzically, then nods slowly and takes my hand. I smile, looking back over at my mom, and carefully begin siphoning off some of the woman's pain. That's an ability that can really come in handy in a situation like this. I wince slightly, but I'm able to keep it hidden.

The idea works; a moment later, the woman exhales in relief, as her pain noticeably decreases. Her eyes widen, and she looks up at me in surprise. "I… guess it worked," she says with a faint chuckle. "Thank you."

I smile back at her, releasing her hand. "No problem."

A moment later, the peaceful feeling is shattered, when I hear a familiar voice yell, "Help! Someone help me!" I spin around, just in time to see Ethan, one of the Alpha twins, burst through the front doors, supporting a half-conscious Danny.

My eyes widen. _What the hell?!_

My mom doesn't waste time asking questions, but springs into action, taking Danny's other arm and helping to guide him into a chair. "Okay, gentle, gentle!" she exclaims. Ethan nods, helping Danny to sit down.

As soon as he's sitting down safely, I grab Ethan by the arm, yanking him away. "What did you do to him?" I growl, glaring daggers at him.

"Nothing!" Ethan protests, his eyes wide. "He said he was having chest pains and trouble breathing, but it…" He looks over to Danny, and I can see the genuine worry in his eyes. "It just kept getting worse."

"This is not good," my mom mutters, examining Danny. "How much longer on Dr. Hilyard?" she yells to the medical station, before pressing lightly against Danny's chest, her eyes widening in alarm. "His larynx has shifted to the side; I think it's a tension pneumothorax!"

Before she can do anything else, Danny gasps, his eyes widening, as he lurches in his chair. Turning away from my mom, he doubles over and retches, vomiting a dense white liquid onto the floor. We all flinch back with startled exclamations, but something about the liquid that's now pooled on the floor seems… oddly familiar. I lean in closer, examining it. It's mostly fluid, with some strange white chunks of plantlike material mixed in. With a start, I recognize it.

"Mistletoe?" I breath.

* * *

"Can you two please go back to the waiting room?" my mom asks as she wheels Danny, now lying on a gurney, into one of the operating rooms. Ethan and I hover anxiously behind her, neither of us willing to leave.

"Where are the nurses and the doctors?" Ethan asks, looking around wide-eyed. "Where is everyone?"

"It's a full house tonight," my mom explains tersely. "They're tending to other patients."

"Okay…" I nod. "Then how can we help?"

My mom sighed. "Honey, you can't. His lung is collapsing, and his heart's being pushed against his chest cavity."

My eyes widen in horror. "So… he's gonna die?"

She's silent for a moment, but then she shakes her head decisively. "No. No, he's not." Nodding, she bursts into action. "Scott, you grab the tape. You," she shoots at Ethan, "grab those scissors and cut his shirt open."

Ethan and I nod, hurrying to carry out her instructions, while she starts rummaging around in the nearby drawers. A moment later, however, a realization hits me. While I can hear Danny's heartbeat – although it's unsteady and erratic – I can't hear his breathing any more.

"Mom, he's not breathing!" I exclaim.

"I know, I know!" A moment later, she pops back up, now holding a hollow, oversized syringe that looks more like something meant for horses than for people. I gulp nervously just at the sight of it, trying not to imagine that being used on me.

"Okay, here we go…" After Ethan and I take our positions holding Danny's shoulders to keep him still, my mom leans over Danny, who's now shirtless after Ethan cut it off him. She takes careful aim, choosing a spot just under his left pectoral, and presses the syringe firmly, point-first, into his chest with a wet _squelch_ that almost turns my stomach. I wince, but my hold on Danny's shoulder doesn't falter.

Once the needle is all the way in, my mom gives a quick twist to the handle, opening a valve that runs through the center. There's a puff of air, and Danny gasps, his back arching and his shoulders lurching up against our hands. Then, however, he slumps back onto the bed, taking a hoarse, rattling breath. It worked; he's breathing.

My mom leans back, wiping her forehead with a weary exhalation. Danny's head lolls over, blinking up at her. "Thank you," he gasps, cracking a weak smile.

She grins, patting his shoulder. "No problem." Then she looks up at me, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

I'm staring wide-eyed at her, smiling. "That was awesome."

She chuckles. "Thanks, but… it wasn't a big deal."

* * *

"I know you probably won't believe me," Ethan says as we walk out of the hospital into the parking lot, "but I didn't do anything to him."

I glance over at him. "All I know is that the minute you got here, you went right for Danny, and your brother went for Lydia."

Ethan sighs. "We're not going to hurt him."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because," Ethan replies, "we knew one of them was probably important to you. And now we know it's Lydia."

I'm about to retort when I notice a car rolling into the far end of the parking lot, some distance away from us. Oddly, although I can't see the interior very well, it doesn't look like there's anybody behind the wheel.

Ethan frowns, noticing my distracted attitude. "What is it?"

And then the car keeps rolling forward until it slams into one of the parked vehicles in the lot with a _crunch_ of metal, and my suspicion is confirmed. By then, I'm already running towards the car, with Ethan following close behind. We both reach the car at the same time; I pull open the unlocked driver's-side door, but as I thought, there's no one inside.

Leaning into the car, I check the back seat, but there's no sign of anyone. On closer inspection, though, I spot a small object lying in the driver's seat. Picking it up, I duck back out of the car, holding it up so I can see it more clearly: a single dead moth.

I frown. _What…?_

* * *

_**Matt** _

I reach Lacey's house in about ten minutes; it's a large white mansion. She already explained to me that both of her parents are rich, which partially explains her reputation at school. She's always been rebellious, though, trying to make her own way in life without following her parents' plans for her. Apparently, she wants to be an artist, and has a passion for painting and drawing.

Running up to the front door, I start knocking loudly, but no one answers. I remember Lacey's telling me that she was alone, which means if she's sick, no one's going to come to the door.

_Damn it!_ I curse inwardly. I try again, but again no one answers, and my patience quickly runs out. _Oh, the hell with this._ Holding my hand palm-downwards over the lock, I reach out telekinetically, grasping the inner workings of the lock and twisting until it clicks open.

I burst into the large front room of her house. Normally, I would be amazed at how extravagant it is – there's a crystal chandelier overhead, and a large grand staircase made of marble – but I don't bother looking around. Instead, I focus my enhanced senses, scanning for any life signs in the house.

Sensing something upstairs, I scramble up the staircase to the second floor and hurry down the hallway, towards where I can hear a heartbeat. One door is open, letting out a shaft of light into the hall, and I run towards it.

The room in question turns out to be a large bathroom. Rushing inside, I see Lacey curled up on the tiled floor, wearing a white nightgown. Her eyes are closed, and she isn't moving; both of her hands are pressed against the sides of her head. Her lips are moving, but I can't tell what she's saying.

"Lacey!" I crouch down beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Lacey, it's me, it's Michael. What's wrong?"

She manages to open her eyes a fraction, looking up at me. "What's… happening… to me?" she whispers. Then her eyes roll back into her head, and she passes out.

"No, no, no!" I act immediately, sliding my arms under her and lifting her off the floor easily. Carrying her in my arms, I hurry out of the room, heading back to my car.

"It's going to be okay, all right?" I murmur as I carry Lacey down the staircase and out the front door, closing and locking it behind me with a quick application of my mind. "I'll take you to the hospital: you're going to be just fine."

As I settle her comfortably in the passenger's seat of the car, carefully buckling her in, I can't help feeling a sudden rush of fear.

* * *

_**Scott** _

"Hang on, hang on," Sheriff Stilinski says, examining the abandoned car. "They were both in the car?"

I'm back outside the hospital, now accompanied by my mom, Stiles, and the Sheriff. Ethan had left, after making sure that Danny was all right, but it hadn't taken long for my mom to figure out that this car belongs to the doctor who'd been on her way there.

"No, dad," Stiles says. "They're trying to tell you that it was two separate kidnappings, okay? Two doctors, both gone."

The Sheriff nods slowly. "So whose car is this?"

"Dr. Hilyard, the on-call doctor," my mom explains. "The E.R. attending is the one who never made it in."

He nods. "Right. Okay, let me focus on just getting your story first, all right? Boys, give us a minute." He and my mom step away so he can get her side of things; I don't mind, as it gives me a minute to talk to Stiles without his dad overhearing.

"These are definitely sacrifices, right?" I murmur.

"Yeah, it's one of the ones Deaton mentioned," Stiles confirms. "Healers."

I nod. That's not good, since it means that both of the missing doctors were likely taken by the Darach, but at least we know why. But one thing doesn't add up. "What about Danny, though? He threw up mistletoe. That's not a coincidence. If he hadn't been with Ethan, he probably would've died, but… Danny's not a healer."

Stiles considers that, but his reply is interrupted when his dad's radio goes off. The Sheriff lifts it to his ear and starts speaking into it. Stiles cranes his neck, trying to listen in, but we're too far away. "Can you hear that?" he asks, indicating his dad.

I nod, reaching out with my enhanced hearing to eavesdrop on the radio conversation. My eyes widen when I realize what they're talking about, and I turn back to Stiles. "They found a body."

He's about to respond when another loud sound cuts us off. We both whip around as a car barrels into the hospital parking lot, screeching to a halt outside the emergency room entrance. The driver's-side door opens, and my eyes widen in shock when I see who jumps out.

It's Matt. He hurries over to the passenger's side of the car, opens the door, and ducks inside. I'm not sure what he's doing, until he pulls back out of the car and, to my surprise, stands up with a blonde-haired girl held carefully in his arms in a bridal carry. Staggering slightly with the effort of lifting her, he starts towards the hospital doors. "Help!" he yells, sounding panicked. "I need some help over here!"

My mom must have seen what's happening, because she turns away from the Sheriff and runs over to the car. "What's going on?" she calls out as she runs over to Matt and the girl. "What's wrong with her?"

"I…" Matt pauses, his eyes widening slightly when he sees my mom, and adjusts his hold on the girl before replying. "I don't know. She called me, said her head and stomach were really hurting, and asked me if I'd come and drive her to the hospital. By the time I got to her place, she was already passed out like this."

My mom nods, calling for a couple of orderlies to bring a gurney for the girl. "Don't worry, we'll find out what's wrong with her," she assures him.

I stare at them in disbelief. I know Stiles didn't recognize Matt when he showed up at school, but my mom doesn't either? How's that possible? He's even _talking_ to her!

But I do know one thing: if he's able to carry somebody else and talk to other people, then that means what's going on is way too complicated for it to just be a hallucination or something like that.

As two orderlies arrive with a gurney, and Matt carefully sets the girl down on it, I start towards them, trying to get a better look. The girl is wheeled into the hospital, with Matt and my mom on either side of the gurney, and I hurry after them.

"Scott?" Stiles calls after me, but I wave him off. I need to figure out what's happening here, and finding out who that girl is would probably be a good place to start.

I burst into the front hallway after Matt and the others, and trail after them as the girl's gurney is wheeled down the front hallway, with Matt and my mom following as she peppers him with questions about the girl's condition. As I slip after them, I finally get a good view of the girl's face, and I stop short in surprise. I know that girl: her name's Lacey, and she's in my Economics and English classes at school. In fact, now that I think about it, she was actually sitting next to Matt when we went on the bus trip to that ill-fated track meet. I'd assumed that was just a coincidence at the time, but… maybe not.

I stop following them, watching as Lacey is wheeled away down the hall. I'm thinking quickly, as a plan forms in my mind. If I want to find out more about how Matt's managing to blend in… then Lacey might be the perfect person to ask. Not to mention that, if Matt is really back from the dead somehow, and if he's obsessed with her the same way he was with Allison, then she could be in danger.

Either way, once my mom's sure she's going to be all right, I think I need to have a talk with Lacey.

* * *

_**Matt** _

After the doctors take Lacey to a hospital room to have her checked out, I'm not allowed to go any further, and I get left stuck in the waiting room. I end up slumped in a chair in the far corner, trying to avoid having to talk to people, while I wait for any word on Lacey's condition; I already made it clear that I'm not leaving until I know she's all right.

In the meantime, I've got something else to deal with; I felt another surge of energy on the way over here, so I know Jennifer's been out making more sacrifices. We should be on the third knot now, if I remember right, so I just want to check and make sure that everything's going according to plan. I casually pull out my phone and send her a text.

**Matt:** _Did you kill somebody else tonight?_

True to form, she replies after less than a minute.

**Jennifer Blake:** _Yeah. One healer down, second one's in progress. Where are you?_

I consider telling her about Lacey, but ultimately decide against it, as she probably wouldn't care.

**Matt:** _Couldn't sleep, so I decided to go out for a walk. Need any help?_

**Jennifer Blake:** _No, I'll be fine. Might want to get some sleep, though; we do have school tomorrow._

I roll my eyes, before sending off another text.

**Matt:** _Yes, Mom._

Exhaling slowly, I lean back in my chair, thinking that last comment over. I haven't really thought about my parents since I died last time; then again, they didn't pay much attention to me when I _was_ around. I vaguely wonder what they'd think of me now, but I discard that train of thought almost immediately. _Doesn't matter._

What I _do_ start thinking about, though, is what I'm going to do once this is all over. Jennifer did promise, after all, that once she and I have completed the sacrificial ritual, gained our full power and disposed of the Alpha pack, I'll be free to go my own way and live my new life in whatever way I choose.

The problem is that I'm not sure what I'm going to do. The only person in my life who knows who I really am is Jennifer, and I have no idea if she's planning to stay in Beacon Hills after the Alphas are dead. The only other reason I'd have for staying here, I'd have to admit, is Lacey… and even that might not work, because she doesn't know who or what I really am, and I seriously doubt she'd still be interested in me if she did. But I've never been out of Beacon Hills before, so I'm not sure how I could make a life somewhere else if I decided to leave.

So what the hell am I going to do?

At the moment, I have no idea. But it's a question that I know, eventually, I'm going to have to answer.

* * *

_**Scott** _

"Good morning," Ms. Blake says, as she stands in front of the blackboard in Mr. Harris's chemistry class. "As you all know, Mr. Harris is still missing… I mean, sick. Anyway, I'm filling in while we all hope and pray for a more qualified substitute to take my place." Turning back to the board, she glances over it, then lets out a sigh. "Ah… okay, so let's get started, shall we?"

Several minutes into the class, Stiles leans over towards me. "My dad said that the E.R. attending wasn't strangled," he murmurs, "but apparently he did die of asphyxiation. They just don't know how."

I frown. "Do you think the on-call doctor could still be alive?"

He sighs. "I don't know. But, Scott… there's got to be at least twenty other doctors in that hospital, you know? Any one of them could be next."

Almost as soon as he says that, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I'm not planning to answer it, obviously, since I'm in class, but I do carefully slide it out of my pocket to glance at the screen.

I raise an eyebrow. _Deaton?_ Why would he be calling me during school?

Stiles has seen it too, so he looks up at me, nods, and leans over to shield me from view. With a second to spare, I lean down and put the phone carefully to my ear. "Hey, doc. Um, sorry, but I'm in class right now. Can I call you back later?"

" _Unfortunately, no,"_ Deaton replies, his normally calm voice now carrying a distinct note of tension. _"I honestly thought I might never have to burden you like this, but I'm afraid, at the moment… you're my only hope."_

My heart rises into my throat. "What?"

" _I'm going to be taken."_ Deaton's voice is still surprisingly calm. _"I need you to find me."_

And then the phone call cuts off.

It feels like my blood has turned to ice. "Doc? Doc? What's happening? Doc!" I try calling back, but the line is dead.

I look up at Stiles, my eyes wide, trying to get my words past the lump in my throat. He looks down at me, frowning. "Dude, what's wrong?" he whispers, trying to make sure no one else hears us.

"It's Deaton. I think…" I cough, trying to get the words out. "I think the Darach took him."

* * *

_**Derek** _

All things considered, I'm not having the best day so far. The first bit of bad news came when Cora and I discovered that the Alpha pack's symbol has been painted onto the outside of the loft's main window. From what Cora told me about everything that happened while I was still recovering from my near-death experience, Ennis, the Alpha who fell off the ledge with me, wasn't as lucky as I was and died from his injuries. That means Kali and the other Alphas will blame me for his death, so they'll most likely be coming for me to take revenge. And, considering the symbol now casting a shadow into the loft from its position on the window, it will probably be soon.

And now there's another intrusion for me to deal with. Fortunately, it's not the Alphas this time.

"Go back to school," I sigh as my door slides open, Isaac and Boyd strolling into the loft.

"Well, actually, we can't," Isaac replies flippantly. "Boyd and I are incredibly, _unbelievably_ sick."

"With what, brain damage?" I drawl.

"Well, I have a migraine, and, uh… Boyd here has explosive diarrhea."

"We're here to protect you," Boyd cuts in, his tone more serious than Isaac's.

I raise an eyebrow. " _You're_ here to protect _me_? Well, I'm definitely in trouble, then."

Isaac shrugs. "Actually, Boyd came up with a plan."

Boyd nods. "Yeah. I thought about the time Gerard had me and Erica locked up, tied up with electrical wires putting a current through us." He pulls a bundle of electrical cables out of his jacket. "I was thinking that we might be able to do something like that… but on a bigger scale." Looking around the loft, he continues. "In a pool of electrified water, it can take about fifty milliamps to kill a normal human. That's less than the power it takes to turn on a lightbulb."

"That's comforting," I deadpan.

Boyd holds up the cords. "So, if we were to pump some water in here, just enough to have a couple of inches of water over the whole floor, and disabled the circuit interrupter in the building's electrical room…" He grins. "Then the current would keep coming, and anybody who set foot in here would get a pretty _shocking_ surprise."

"Especially," Isaac puts in with a smirk, "someone who's barefoot."

I think that over for a moment, and then my lips curl in a grin. It's at times like this that I'm really glad I chose to make a pack; the sensation of pride in my Betas is something that I haven't experienced nearly enough of, but it's something I thoroughly enjoy. My mother's old sayings ring true; it is better to fight alongside your pack than without them.

Now let's just hope that fighting with them at my back will be enough.

* * *

_**Scott** _

Things are going from bad to worse. First, I rushed to the clinic, trying to save Deaton, only to find that he was already gone. The only thing I found was a freshly-dead moth, just like the one from the car, which I'm pretty sure is the Darach's calling card. Stiles and I debated telling his dad the truth about what's going on, but we were interrupted by Ms. Morrell, who's apparently also Deaton's sister, and she suggested that Lydia, due to whatever supernatural sense she has, might be able to help us find him.

Now we're back at the high school; while Stiles went to find Lydia, my attention has been diverted by a strange, rhythmic tapping noise, echoing through the halls. Clearly nobody else can hear it, but my sensitive hearing can pick up on it clearly, and I follow it through the hallways, homing in on the source of the noise.

Eventually, I find myself standing outside the doors of the school's music room. Taking a deep breath and bracing myself, I open the door and step inside.

There's no one there, except for a single figure: a tall man, standing next to the piano, tapping his cane against the wood and producing the repeated sound. I recognize him instantly, of course.

Deucalion.

"Do you know what a metronome is, Scott?" he inquires, tilting his head as if he's listening to my breathing and heartbeat. "It's a tool to help you maintain a steady rhythm once you've set the tempo." He smiles, tapping the cane against the piano again. "Something tells me that the tempo of your life has sped up considerably in the last few hours. If you'd like, I could help you slow it down to a more manageable pace."

I frown. "How?"

He turns his sightless gaze in my direction. "By helping you find your friend Deaton, of course."

I inhale sharply, straightening up, my fists and teeth clenching.

"Your heart's pounding," Deucalion murmurs. "But it's not fear; it's anger." He smiles, bringing his hands together. "I bet I know what you're thinking: 'Does he have something to do with Deaton's disappearance?'" He leans back, holding up his cane. "I'll tell you what. If you can take the cane away from me, I'll tell you exactly where he is. What do you say?"

I growl, my eyes flashing gold as I step towards him. As soon as I'm within range, I make a grab for the cane, but Deucalion easily twitches it to one side, and my grasp misses. I try again, and again, this time using my real strength and speed, but he seems to know where I'm going to be even before I do. Despite all my speed, I can't lay a finger on him, much less take his cane from him.

As I make another unsuccessful swipe, the tip of the cane pops off, revealing a small, hidden blade, the same one that he previously used to discipline the twins. Before I can react, Deucalion flicks his wrist, and the blade slices across my cheek, opening a cut. Even as I flinch back, hissing in pain, his arm blurs again, and the blade stabs hard into my shoulder, piercing my flesh. I let out a pained cry, recoiling and raising one hand to my slashed face, pressing the other against the stab wound in my shoulder. I can already feel my healing ability going to work, knitting the cuts back together, but it takes a few seconds.

"Impressive," Deucalion remarks dryly, cleaning my blood off the cane's blade, "but I'm sure you already know I'm not the one carving up innocent people, praying to ancient gods, or gathering herbs… or whatever the hell druids do." He frowns. "I _am_ part of a pack that wants Derek dead, though. Kali is coming for him; she's feeling quite vindictive over what happened to Ennis. So there's a difficult choice you're about to face, Scott. Because someone is going to die tonight. Whether that's Derek or Deaton, well… that's up to you." He turns his back on me and starts towards the doorway.

"Just…" I gasp after him. "Please. Tell me where he is."

Deucalion pauses. "I'll give you a very important clue," he says. "Let the currents guide you." Then he turns away, strides out through the door, and is gone.

I'm left staring after him. _What the hell does that mean?_

* * *

_**Matt** _

I get home at around the same time as Jennifer, strolling in through the front door of our apartment to find her sitting on the couch. "Feeling all right?" she questions, quirking an eyebrow.

"Oh, shut up," I mutter. I'm exhausted, and with good reason; in addition to having a long day at school, I spent most of last night at the hospital, refusing to go home until Scott's mother had come out to the waiting room and assured me that Lacey was sleeping peacefully and that she should be fine. I was told I couldn't visit her then, as she was asleep, so I'm planning to go back this evening. Before then, though, I'm still extremely tired, and I need sleep if I'm going to be able to go anywhere tonight.

Before going back to my room, I glance over to Jennifer. "So, how's the healer hunt going?"

"Two down, one to go," she replies. "And I already strung up the third one, so he should be dead before too long, and then we'll have the third knot."

"Great. Tell me about it later; I need sleep."

Jennifer grins. "Long night?"

"You could say that, yeah." Ducking into my room, I discard my school stuff, kick off my shoes, and collapse onto the bed, still dressed. I'm asleep almost before my head touches the pillow.

* * *

_**Scott** _

I walk down the hospital, heading to meet up with Stiles. We have a lot of information to go over; I'd theorized that Danny might have been targeted by the Darach because he knew something, as he had definitely been affected by it, but he clearly wasn't a sacrifice like the rest of the people it's killed. To that end, in an effort to find out what he knows, Stiles went to the hospital after his attempts to have Lydia locate Deaton didn't pan out, with the goal of finding out if Danny has any information that could prove useful.

I was diverted before I could head over here too, as Allison needed my help with a potentially-important discovery: apparently, her father has a secret map that shows all of the recent important supernatural events in town, from the vault where Boyd and Cora were held, to all the places where the Darach's victims have been found dead, as well as a list of six other locations where no bodies have been found… yet. She and I have no idea if that means he knows where Deaton is being held, but it at least gives us a list of possible locations to start looking for him.

Armed with this newfound information, I've come to the hospital to meet Stiles, who should have gotten any information Danny has by now. As I'm walking down the hallway, though, a name beside one of the doors brings me up short.

_Lacey Evans._

I look up and down the hallway, making sure there's no one nearby, as I'm probably not supposed to enter her room like this. But if she knows anything about Matt, that could explain how he's somehow back, then it's worth it.

Carefully, I open the door and step inside, closing it quietly behind me.

I'm in luck; the room is empty, except for a single bed where Lacey is lying, curled up under the sheets. She's wearing simple white hospital scrubs, and has the covers pulled up to her chin, staring out the window. She turns with a start as I enter, her eyes wide. "I… Scott?" she asks in confusion. "Scott McCall? What're you doing here?"

"Uh… hey, Lacey," I say with a gentle smile, stepping hesitantly towards her. "Sorry; I hope I'm not intruding. I was just here to see my mom, and I noticed your name on the board outside, so I figured I'd see if you were okay."

Lacey cracks a weak grin. "Well, I don't feel like my head's going to explode anymore, so that's an improvement," she jokes. "But it's very nice of you to check on me."

"Well, it's the least I could do," I reply, sitting down in one of the chairs next to the bed. "Uh, if you don't mind my asking… where's your parents? My mom said your… boyfriend… brought you in?" I make sure not to say anything about Matt in particular, as I'm trying not to be too obvious.

"Oh, that." Lacey shrugs, and I notice a touch of sadness on her pretty features. "Well, my parents are in Los Angeles on a business trip, so I don't think they actually know I'm in the hospital yet. They won't be back for a few more days, at least; they're both real estate developers, so they're often out of town for a while." I feel a pang of sympathy for her; it's clear from her tone that she doesn't have a good relationship with her parents. Then she brightens. "But yes, Michael brought me in here; I called him when I started feeling sick, and I'm very glad I did."

"Michael?" Interesting: that's what Stiles told me the "new student" in our school, who he keeps seeing instead of Matt, is called. At least that means everyone else is definitely seeing the same person. "Does… does he go to school with us?"

"Oh, yes, of course," Lacey replies. "He's a new student, though. But yes, he's in a couple of classes that we both have. English, for one. That's where he and I met." She smiles. "He can be a little strange sometimes, but he's very sweet."

I'm just feeling more confused by this turn of events, but I eventually decide not to worry about it right now; I've got more important things to deal with at the moment. "I'm glad you're feeling better," I say, forcing a smile as I stand up. "Hopefully I'll see you at school."

Lacey nods, smiling. "Thanks," she replies. "Oh, your mom's Melissa, right? If you see her, could you please tell her I'd like to know when I could leave? I'm feeling much better, and I'd like to go home soon if I can."

"Oh, yeah, of course!" I smile, stepping over to her, and stand there a little awkwardly for a moment before putting out a hand for her to shake. "Well, it was good to see you."

"You too." Lacey smiles and shakes my hand...

And that's when something weird happens.

As soon as she takes my hand, Lacey gasps, her back arching violently, almost lifting her off the bed. Her lips move rapidly, as if she's trying to form words but can't settle on one in particular. Her eyes roll back in her head, her body continuing to jerk and spasm.

"Lacey?" I ask anxiously, leaning down and tightening my hold on her arm, trying to snap her out of whatever fit she's suddenly in. "Lacey! What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Lacey's grasp on my hand suddenly tightens, squeezing my hand like a vice. Her other hand snaps up, seizing my arm and pulling me closer to her. Her eyes suddenly open, impossibly wide… but that's not what causes me to flinch back.

What causes me to flinch is that her eyes are glowing, filled entirely with an unearthly, jade-green light. Her eyes narrow, focusing on me, and she speaks in a different voice, this one hoarse and with an odd echo to it, as if three Laceys are speaking simultaneously.

_"You seek the third,"_ she breathes. _"The healer, your teacher, your friend."_ Her glowing eyes lock with mine. _"You will find him in the current, in the vault, in the ash."_

I inhale sharply, looking down at her. "I – what? What do you mean?" I have no idea what this is; I've never seen anything like this. But… is she talking about Deaton? How could she know anything about him? And what's going on with her eyes?

_"You will find him."_ She draws in a long, rattling breath. _"But beware, for the darkest night is coming. They will come together, before it all ends: the Dark, the Demon, and the True."_

With that, Lacey gasps, goes limp, and collapses back onto her bed, eyes closed. When they open again, the ethereal green light is gone; her eyes are human again. Her eyes widen and she blinks as she looks up at me in confusion. "Um… Scott? Is everything all right?"

I stare wide-eyed at her. She doesn't remember that? While we're at it, what _was_ that?! But I don't want to scare her, so I shake my head and let go of her hand. "Yeah, everything's fine. You just… kinda zoned out for a minute there, so I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Lacey nods slowly. Her breathing is noticeably heavier than before, but other than that she seems to be fine. "Yes… yes, I'm fine. I am feeling tired, though; I think I should get some sleep."

"Yeah… yeah, I think that's a good idea." I nod, slowly backing towards the door. "I'll, uh… see you later."

I open the door as Lacey pulls the sheets back over herself, step out into the hallway, and close it, before taking a few steps down the hall and leaning against the wall. My hands are trembling, and I can still feel that creeping chill running down my back.

_What the_ _**hell** _ _was that?!_

Right now, though, it doesn't matter. All that matters right now is finding Deaton. I turn around and hurry off down the hallway, Lacey's words ringing in my ears.

_You will find him in the current… in the vault… in the ash._

* * *

_**Derek** _

Fortunately, it didn't take too long for Isaac, Boyd and I to set up our trap for the Alphas. The concrete floor of the loft is now covered by about six inches of water, more than enough to conduct the electrical current from the wires Boyd brought. My two Betas and I are perched on wooden stands, safely above the water, waiting for the Alphas to make their entrance.

But it's been several hours now, and they haven't shown up yet.

"Uh, guys?" Isaac speaks up, drawing Boyd's and my attention. He points up to something on the wall. "Isn't that light supposed to be on?"

I look up and realize that he's pointing to the alert light for the alarm system I installed. The usual red glow is off; the light is dark. "Yeah."

"And… what does it mean if it's not?"

My lip curls in a scowl. "It means someone cut the auxiliary power."

"What about the main…" Boyd is interrupted as the main lights abruptly cut off, leaving us in darkness except for the moonlight coming in through the windows.

I look around. Everything's silent; the steady hum of electricity has cut off. To test my theory, I reach carefully down with one foot and touch the water.

Nothing happens.

_Crap._

"Derek?" Isaac speaks up, his voice now considerably more nervous than before. "What do we do now?"

I can hear distant footsteps, coming towards the loft doors. Well, no point in hiding now. I shrug off my jacket, hop down into the water with a splash, and stalk out into the middle of the loft, my eyes flashing red as I lock my gaze on the door.

"We fight," I growl.

Sure enough, a few seconds later, the distinctive clanking of metal echoes through the loft, and the heavy door slides open, to reveal the familiar form of Kali, her own red eyes flashing through the gloom. Boyd and Isaac move to flank me, their eyes lighting up yellow.

"Gonna be honest, Derek," Kali snarks as she steps through the door. "When Ennis died, my first thought was to just go for it. Find you and kill you, wherever you stood. But then I remembered how you tend to surround yourself with these… _teenagers_ , hiding behind them. So I thought, 'what's a girl gotta do to get you alone?'" She motions, and the twins step into view behind her. But they're not what I'm concerned with; it's what they're holding between them.

Jennifer. Her eyes are wide in panic, for good reason; she's pinned between the twins, one of them holding each of her arms in a two-handed grip.

"You and me, Derek," Kali says, smirking coldly. "Or they tear her apart." She takes another step towards me. "What do you say? Think you can beat me one-on-one?"

My eyes burn crimson as I step forward, holding out an arm and shaking my head as Boyd and Isaac try to follow me. Kali isn't bluffing; the only way Jennifer's going to survive this is if I can win this fight alone.

So that's what I'll have to do.

"I'm going to rip your throat out," I growl, my fangs and claws extending. "With my teeth."

Kali tilts her head, her own claws and fangs flicking out. She answers my snarl with her own, and we both charge simultaneously.

* * *

_**Scott** _

"Deaton has to be at one of those six locations," I say, referring to the map that Allison and I found in her apartment. "But they're all over town; I don't think we can get to all of them fast enough." I look around to Stiles, Lydia, and Cora; we're all at the animal clinic, going over the information we've got so far. I haven't mentioned that bizarre episode with Lacey in the hospital, as I have no idea what it means, and it doesn't really seem important right now.

"Well, we might not have to," Stiles puts in. "Danny was doing a project on something for Mr. Harris's physics class, and I think it actually means something."

"What project?"

He holds up the paper he took from Danny's bag. "Something about… telluric currents?"

My head snaps around, as I remember the strange advice I was given. First by Deucalion, then by Lacey.

_"Let the currents guide you."_

_"You will find him in the current…"_

"Did you say _currents_?" I ask.

Stiles nods. "Yeah."

Cora sighs. "What does this kid's homework have to do with finding Deaton?"

"Because it's not just homework, okay?" Stiles retorts. "It's a project on geomagnetic fields: they flow through the earth, and they can even be affected by lunar phases." He holds out the paper. "Now, look at this. This is a note, from Harris, on Danny's proposal."

Lydia leans over, reading the note aloud. "'I strongly advise you to choose another subject. The ideas here, while innovative and thoughtful, border on pseudo-science. Not suitable for class.'"

"See?" Stiles says, his tone getting more excited. "Danny wanted to do a paper on this stuff, and Harris shut it down for no reason." He looks up at us. "I don't think Harris was just a sacrifice. I think he knew something, and the Darach didn't want him – or Danny – talking to anyone about it." He takes another sheet of paper out, unfolding it and spreading it out on the table. "Now, check this out. Allison's dad wasn't the only one with a map; Danny had one too. He marked all the telluric currents in this area, see?" He spreads the map out, letting us see the matrix of curving colored lines streaking across the map of Beacon Hills. "Yeah, one weird thing about Beacon Hills is that it actually _is_ a beacon. You wouldn't believe how much energy's flowing through the earth around this town."

As I look more closely at the map, holding up the picture I took of Chris Argent's map to compare the two, realization dawns. "Stiles, look! They match." Sure enough, all of the locations Chris marked are located directly on at least one of the currents. "Okay, so there's two locations associated with each victim, right? Where they were kidnapped, and where their body was found."

Lydia nods, looking at the two maps. "Look, this place is right on a current too," she points out, tapping Danny's map. Sure enough, the animal clinic is located directly over one of the currents.

"So, maybe where the people are sacrificed is between those two points," I reason.

"Let me see that," Stiles asks, taking my picture of Chris's map and examining it more closely. "You said there's six more bodies to be found. Deaton's one of them. So it's got to be somewhere between here and one of those six points, right? Probably along one of the…"

"Stop." Cora's voice cuts him off. She taps the location of the animal clinic on Danny's map, then slides her fingertip along the current, towards one of the body-drop points… and comes to rest on a building that I instantly recognize: the same bank where the Alphas were holding her and Boyd. "He's in the vault," she says, her eyes wide. "He's in the same vault."

My senses prick up at that. "Vault?" I remember Lacey's echoing voice again.

_"…in the vault…"_

The decision is made instantly. Stiles and I head straight for the door, almost ignoring the sound of Cora's phone ringing. She answers it as we're hurrying through the front office, but it's only Lydia's shout of "Guys, hold on!" that stops us short.

"Lydia, we don't have time!" Stiles shoots back as we turn.

"That was Boyd," Cora snaps as she bursts out of the back room. "The plan didn't work; the Alphas cut the power. Derek's fighting Kali right now. I have to help him."

I freeze, feeling a chill. Deucalion's warning rings through my mind again.

"It's just like he said," I breathe in horror. I make a split-second decision, whipping around to the others. "You guys, go help Derek. I can save Deaton myself."

Stiles frowns. "What? Scott, what about us?"

"Cora can't get there fast enough without you. Go! We can save both of them."

Stiles thinks that over for a minute, glancing from me to Cora and back again. Finally, he nods. "All right. Let's go."

* * *

Fortunately, running at full speed, it doesn't take long for me to reach the bank. Even more luckily, it's not locked up like it was when the Alphas were staying here. I burst through the front door and sprint full-out for the vault where the Alphas had kept Boyd and Cora locked up, skidding to a halt at the entrance.

Thankfully, we'd been right; Deaton is at the center of the room, suspended by his wrists from a rope attached to the ceiling. It seems like he's almost out of energy, as he's hanging limply from the ropes.

"Deaton!" I exclaim, running forward to get him down, but just before I can reach him, there's a sudden flash of blue-purple light, and I'm flung violently back, knocked flat on my back on the marble floor. It feels like I just ran into a wall. I scramble back to my feet, and that's when I see it: a ring of black dust, on the floor in a circle around Deaton.

My heart sinks, as I remember the final part of Lacey's words.

_"In the current, in the vault… **in the ash.** "_

Ash. _Mountain_ ash.

The Darach outsmarted us. Whoever they are, they set up a mountain ash barrier around Deaton, to make sure that a werewolf couldn't help him. They were expecting me to come for him.

And now, because I can't cross a mountain ash barrier and I didn't bring Stiles or Lydia with me, he's going to die.

For a moment, I'm frozen in horror. But then a surge of anger rushes through me, and I snarl, eyes flashing gold. No. This isn't over. We spent too much time finding Deaton, overcoming the obstacles in our way, for it to end up failing like this.

I lunge towards Deaton again. Once again, the mountain ash barrier activates as soon as I hit it, a wall of flickering blue light materializing in front of me, but this time I keep pushing, straining forward with everything in me, digging my heels in to keep from being pushed back. I let out a yell, pushing, _pushing_ , every muscle in my body devoted to the task, refusing to give in. I can see Deaton; his eyes are flickering open, watching me, and that realization, the knowledge that he's still alive, spurs me on.

And then, for a split second… something changes. The resistance of the barrier doesn't seem so strong, for a second. It wavers, and for a moment, I feel… _something_ welling up within me, something like what I felt in that moment when I clashed with Ennis during the battle at the abandoned mall. It's as if everything – my strength, speed, senses – have been heightened, throwing everything into a new clarity.

But then the moment passes, and that strange sensation of power vanishes as quickly as it came. The barrier's resistance finally overcomes my pushing force, and I'm hurled back again, skidding away across the floor.

Gasping, I roll over, trying to push myself up, willing myself to try again, but for a second my legs feel weak and I can't get up.

And then a voice cuts through the ringing in my ears, coming from behind me. "Scott!"

I roll over just in time to see Sheriff Stilinski appear in the door, his pistol already drawn. He grins. "Let me give it a shot," he says, and takes careful aim before firing. The bullet tears straight through the rope above Deaton's upraised hands, which snaps instantly, and Deaton drops to the floor, landing in a sprawled heap, coughing and gasping for air.

I'm panting heavily, struggling to get back up, but the feeling of overwhelming relief is so strong that I almost collapse again.

We did it. He's safe.

* * *

_**Derek** _

A punch, a kick, an elbow, a knee strike, a flash of claws – Kali and I fight back and forth across the flooded loft, throwing up showers of water as we clash again and again. The fight is straightforward and brutal, blood mixing with the water as we tear at each other. She's stronger, but I have more to lose, and the desperation gives me power.

Through the din, I glance over to see Isaac holding up his phone, as if he's checking something on the screen. His eyes widen, and he yells, " _Derek, move!_ " An instant later, he kicks off the wooden board he was standing on and hurdles across the room, rushing for the twins and Jennifer, while Boyd lunges at Kali from behind, trying to catch her off guard. Isaac's eyes widen as he looks at Boyd, and he yells "No, Boyd, wait!"

I start to yell, _What the hell are you –_

And then there's a deep hum, sparks fly from the water, and a searing burst of white-hot agony rushes through every nerve in my body. Kali and Boyd are also caught in the electric trap, all three of us crumpling to the floor, thrashing and convulsing, churning up the water.

Somebody turned the power back on, activating our electrical trap. The problem is, Boyd and I have been caught in it too.

The current cuts off after a few seconds. I struggle to rise, limbs twitching, trying to get back up and fight.

Kali gets up first. She's stronger than I am, so she was able to recover more quickly. Whirling, she rounds on a still-immobilized Boyd, seizing him by the neck, her claws digging into his skin. "Take him!" she roars, and I don't realize what she means until the twins both latch onto me from behind, each of them seizing one of my arms in a vice grip, yanking me up to my knees and lifting my still-clawed hands into the air.

"And this," Kali hisses, dragging Boyd towards me and lifting him bodily into the air, "is how it's done."

And before I can realize what she's about to do, she slams Boyd down, right on top of me.

Or, more accurately, she drives his chest and stomach straight down onto my upraised claws. I realize what's about to happen an instant before impact, but I can't move fast enough to stop it, my reflexes still dulled from the electricity.

I see the claws go in. I _feel_ them, punching through Boyd's skin, sinking into flesh and muscle, and I'm screaming internally but can't stop it until it's too late.

And then the twins and Kali let go, and Boyd drops on top of me, a heavy weight, driving the claws in deeper before I can desperately yank my arms back, pulling them out, but it's already done. Boyd collapses to one side, splashing into the water, ten deep puncture wounds standing out against his white shirt, spreading red stains around each of them. Fatal wounds, even for a werewolf.

Kali smiles, flashing her fangs. "That's one." She turns, stalking back towards the loft entrance. "I'm giving you until the next full moon, Derek," she calls over her shoulder. "Make the smart choice. Join our pack. Or next time I'm killing all of you." Then she sweeps out through the doorway and is gone. The twins follow silently after her.

And then it's just me, and Boyd, with Isaac and Jennifer in the background. And I'm looking down at my hands, still stained red with his blood, the blood of my own Beta, and one thought ringing in my mind, over and over.

_What have I done?_

* * *

_**Scott** _

"How did you find us?" I ask, as I help Deaton to get comfortable, folding a blanket around him; it's cold in the bank vault, and he's been there for several hours at least.

Sheriff Stilinski shrugs. "Those vials in the clinic, with the Celtic symbols on 'em? I knew one of them looked familiar." He indicates the bank's logo, a Celtic symbol, emblazoned on the floor in the middle of the vault.

Deaton looks up, smiling wearily. "Sheriff," he says, "thank you for being one hell of a detective."

The Sheriff grins, clapping Deaton on the shoulder. "You bet. Now let's get you an ambulance." He turns, straightening up, and exits the vault, heading back outside so he can call for one.

As soon as he's gone, Deaton turns to me, grabbing me by the shoulder with a surprisingly strong hold. "Your eyes," he whispers, his own eyes wide in astonishment. "They were red. Bright red."

I stare back at him in disbelief. "What? How's that possible?"

"It's rare." Deaton's tone is quiet… reverent, even. "It's something that doesn't happen more than once in a hundred years, but… every once in a while, a Beta can become an Alpha without having to steal or take that power. It's one who rises to that status purely on the strength of their character, by virtue, and by sheer force of will." His dark eyes lock with mine, filled with an intensity I've never seen from him before. "They call it a True Alpha."

I can only stare at him, dumbfounded… but I also realize something. He seems amazed, yes… but he doesn't seem surprised. "You knew this would happen?"

"No." Deaton shakes his head slightly, smiling. "But I believed. From the moment I knew you were bitten, I believed."

I'm still not sure what to make of this. Does this mean… I can become an Alpha? Without killing another one? I wouldn't have believed it, but if he's telling the truth, then that would mean…

That's when a realization hits me, and I feel a chill. "You're not the only one," I murmur, my eyes wide.

Deaton nods soberly. "No, I'm not. Deucalion isn't just after Derek. He's after you."

That notion sends chills down my spine, but it's not the only reason. Because hearing that information, especially the name he used for that type of werewolf – a _True_ Alpha – reminded me of something else. The _other_ warning that Lacey gave me, when she had that bizarre episode in the hospital.

_"They will come together, before this all ends: the Dark, the Demon…_

_"And the True."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, regarding what happens with Lacey in this chapter: the events here might seem a bit random and out-of-nowhere, but I have actually foreshadowed this before now, hinting that she might not be entirely ordinary, particularly in the chapters taking place at the Glen Capri. I will say that, while she is something supernatural, she's not a werewolf, a banshee, or anything else that we've seen on the canon show before. You might have some idea of what she is after reading this chapter, but don't worry, it will be explained in more detail later on, in-story. And don't worry, I won't be making her overpowered or anything; her supernatural nature isn't really a physical thing.
> 
> Next time, Matt and Jennifer discuss her past, the next round of sacrifices begin, and the pack prepares for the upcoming recital… and then things really start getting crazy.


End file.
